Face of the Enemy
by SpaceCowboy
Summary: Complete. Most cast with emphasis on Archer, and separate storyline emphasis on Trip . It's a hard lesson to learn; that surfaces can be deceiving, but who's learning the lesson?
1. Part One

  
**Face of the Enemy  
**by SpaceCowboy**  
  
  
_'The truth is rarely pure and simple.'  
- Oscar Wilde (The Importance of Being Earnest)_  
  
  
Part One  
**   
  
THE GIRL HAD LONG BLOND HAIR. It cascaded down the sides of her face and fell onto her shoulders with such subtly, melting butter would be jealous. The _602 Club_ was crowded, but Captain Jonathon Archer only saw her amongst the patrons. He was mesmerized, and trying his hardest to remember her name. She kept smiling and waving a hand, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything but her beauty. Which was fortunate, because the captain was not actually on Earth, but rather, sitting on the bridge of the NX-01 _Enterprise_.  
  
A voice to his left caught his attention, so he shook the daydream from his mind and brought the bridge back into perspective. Sub-Commander T'Pol was looking at him with a single eyebrow arched. "I'm sorry," he said, discreetly clenching his fists. "Can you repeat that?"  
  
"I'm picking up a faint beacon on a sub-space ban. Would you like Ensign Sato to open a channel?" T'Pol asked, again.  
  
"Do you know where it's coming from?"   
  
"I have not yet determined the exact location of the beacon, but I believe it is coming from off our port bow." T'Pol kept her head down as she worked her fingers over her terminal.   
  
"Hoshi, open that channel. I want to heat it." The captain was looking straight ahead as he gave the order.   
  
Loud static filled the bridge, wherein a faint, high pitched beep could be detected. Archer watched Hoshi frantically trying to control the background noise as the rest of the crew cringed in their seats. She apologized for the mistake, but kept her head low. "Captain, I believe it's some sort of distress signal," she announced. "My sensors indicate the beacon is about one hundred years old."   
  
"It seems to be trapped in some sort of radiation cloud," added Malcolm. "That's probably why our sensors are having difficulties separating it from the background turbulence."  
  
The captain ordered Ensign Mayweather to bring _Enterprise_ to a full stop just outside the perimeter of the radiation cloud. "Hoshi, I want you to filter out the sounds and get a translation on that message." On that, Archer stood and started toward T'Pol's terminal.  
  
Several minutes passed, and while Archer was leaning over T'Pol's shoulder, everyone heard Hoshi make the announcement. "I was able to clarify the message using a sub-space transponder on a low frequency, and the universal translator did the rest. Do you want me to put it on the speakers now?"   
  
The captain nodded and the bridge crew paused to hear the distressed voice of an anonymous alien. "_We are in desperate need of assistance. Our planet is collapsing and we do not have sufficient means to rescue all of our population. Time is running out. Please help us save our race. Vhoorminia is located in the Tr'Lax system._" Then it repeated itself until Archer ordered its termination.   
  
He turned to T'Pol with an eyebrow raised. "I'm not familiar with this race, Captain," replied T'Pol. "Although, I am vaguely aware of the Tr'Lax system. It's possibly in one of our Vulcan star charts, but I can not be certain."  
  
Archer dropped his head. "I was actually looking for a little more than that," he said.  
  
"Perhaps you should ask Doctor Phlox?" suggested T'Pol. "My species is not the only one that has travelled this far. Perhaps the Denobulans have made contact with this planet."   
  
The captain called for the doctor, then moved to the middle of the bridge. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, anxiously awaiting his arrival. "This just might be the break from boredom we need," he said with a smile. "It's been awhile since something interesting has come along."   
  
"Captain, you're not actually considering going to Vhoorminia are you? This beacon is one hundred years old," stated Malcolm.   
  
"Ninety- eight point five to be exact," corrected T'Pol.   
  
Archer looked disconcertingly at his security officer. "Mr. Reed, I don't see any harm in seeing what we can do."  
  
"But we're about one hundred... Sorry, ninety-eight point five years too late. There's probably nothing left of Vhoorminia to save."   
  
"Probably, being the operative word, Mr. Reed," the captain stated. "I'm just going to find out if we are on course with this planet. Phlox may know something, and I want to exercise all my options before dismissing this."   
  
T'Pol raised her head from her console. "Captain, there may be some validity to Lieutenant Reed's point. After ninety-eight point five years, one must assume the race has already been saved or destroyed."   
  
The turbo lift doors opened and everyone turned. "Ah, Captain, you called?" sang the doctor, stepping onto the bridge.   
  
"I've asked you here to help make some sense of a distress signal we've stumbled upon. Hoshi would you play back the message please," replied Archer, by way of quashing the voiced concerns.  
  
With the touch of a finger, the communication's officer filled the bridge with the recorded message. Phlox stood still and listened. When it was over, his posture remained the same, but his face expressed confusion.   
  
"Is there something wrong?" Archer asked.  
  
Phlox crossed his arms behind his back and approached the forward view screen. "Well, I've heard of the Vhoorminians," he replied, then turned a questioning look back at Archer. "Are we not in orbit above Vhoorminia?"   
  
The captain joined him at the view screen. "No, we just triggered a beacon and were wondering where the Vhoorminian home system is located. Are we on course to intercept with this planet?"   
  
"From what I recall, since the last time I checked our position, we are relatively close to the Morix system," replied Phlox.  
  
"Tr'Lax," Malcolm corrected.  
  
The Denobulan didn't understand. "Tr'Lax?"   
  
"Tr'Lax. Vhoorminia is located in the Tr'Lax system. You said Morix. I was just correcting you."  
  
Phlox inclined his head, and then raised a finger. "No, I think I should correct you. Vhoorminia is in the Morix system. I'm sure of this."  
  
"All due respect, Doctor," started Malcolm. "Maybe you should check you're hearing. The beacon clearly stated Vhoorminia was located in the Tr'Lax system. Would you like Ensign Sato to play it back for you?" Malcolm looked to his captain for assistance. Archer nodded to Hoshi, who knew that meant to replay the beacon.  
  
"_We are in desperate need of assistance. Our planet is collapsing and we do not have sufficient means to rescue all of our population. Time is running out. Vhoorminia is located in the Tr'Lax system. Please help us save our race_." End of replay.  
  
"I told you," Malcolm said, with a smug grin.   
  
"Doctor, are you still convinced you're previous statement is true?" prodded Archer.  
  
"Well, yes. I know what I heard, but I'm quite certain the planet I planned to vacation on several years back is located in the Morix system. I'd heard the planet is just astonishing, and the landscape just breathtaking."  
  
Archer rubbed his temples methodically. Was the probe inaccurate? Had the Vhoorminians already been relocated? Was this a trap? Was the doctor wrong? Why was the probe still here, and why couldn't they save all of their population? Archer couldn't concentrate on one question, let alone all of them.   
  
"T'Pol, I want a complete sensor sweep of that probe," he finally said. "Find out all you can about it. Hoshi, double check the universal translator to see if maybe it interpreted the distress signal wrong. I know it's highly unlikely, but I don't have much to go on right now." Then he glanced over his shoulder at the security officer. "Lieutenant Reed, please assemble the senior officers. We'll convene in half an hour in the briefing room. Phlox, I'd like you there as well."  
  
~  
  
Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker the III was pacing main engineering, his arms folded tightly across his chest. For a crew deteriorating into monotony, engineering was quite the opposite. With all this spare time, Trip had decided to completely overhaul the ship's engines. A job that was now proving to be very tedious, and very frustrating when his entire staff had nothing but adventure stuck on their minds.   
  
In his frustrated state, Trip didn't even hear Malcolm walk up behind him. "What now?!" he snapped at the sound of his name. His face suddenly softened when he noticed it wasn't one his staff coming to complain, yet again.   
  
"Having a good day, are we?" asked Malcolm. "It seems I'm not the only one on edge these days. We've been cooped up a lot longer than I thought."  
  
Trip sighed and redirected his eyes to the warp drive. "It's just hectic down here, that's all," he replied. "I want the warp drive at full operational status, but the captain's been flying at warp two for the past few days. Doesn't he understand the complexities of these repairs are just intensified on the fly? I wanna find something out here as much as he does, but we'll all have to get out and push if he doesn't allow my staff to do this overhaul." He turned away and leaned against the rail surrounding the matter-anti-matter containment field. He raised his head and stared at the ceiling, letting out a deep breath. "Why have we stopped anyway?" he asked.   
  
Malcolm explained, in detail, the accounts of finding the distress beacon, and the confusion as to where the planet resides. Trip said he would be in the briefing room by 1300h, but first he wanted to get engineering organized. His crew seemed to think that since _Enterprise_ was at full stop, that meant they could also come to a full stop. Trip had other plans. He turned and strode briskly across the room, shouting orders over his shoulders to anyone who had the displeasure of being in close proximity to him.  
  
~  
  
By 1300h all the senior officers had collected in the briefing room. T'Pol had taken her usual spot to the left of the captain. Trip had taken his spot directly across from T'Pol, with Lieutenant Reed standing to his right. Phlox had situated himself on the end of the table with Ensigns Sato and Mayweather.  
  
The captain rested his hands on the table and leaned forward. He gazed from face to face as he spoke. "Hoshi, any luck with the translator?" he asked, steadying his eyes on the young ensign's face.   
  
Hoshi stiffened. "The translator seems to have translated the message accurately, sir."   
  
The captain had expected as much, so he turned his attention to the Vulcan without further debate. "T'Pol, what have you learned about the probe?"  
  
T'Pol drew in a steady breath and straightened her shoulders. "The probe does not mention alternate coordinates," she started. "This might suggest the planet was destroyed rather than rescued. Otherwise, the Vhoorminians would have stated the coordinates of their new home world- in order for them to be reunited. But upon further contemplation I have surmised otherwise. There is a very probable chance the Vhoorminians were rescued, or at least some of them." She paused to step forward. "It would seem that both Mr. Reed and Doctor Phlox were correct about the location of the planet."  
  
"How's that possible? How can a planet have two different locations?" Trip asked.  
  
"It is quite simple actually," continued T'Pol. "The original planet was located in the Tr'Lax system. This is the planet which was speculatively destroyed. And in the distress call it clearly stated the Vhoorminians could not save _all_ of their population."  
  
With a nod, Archer finished T'Pol's explanation. "Which would suggest that some did survive."  
  
"Correct. One could assume the Vhoorminians who did manage to escape their collapsing planet, re-colonized in the Morix system and named it after its home world. The beacon was most likely placed during the re-colonization- as they were still unaware of their final destination."  
  
"But why didn't the Vhoorminian's go back to help the one's that couldn't make it? Why only save some of their population?" inquired Trip.  
  
Phlox raised a finger to interrupt. "If I remember correctly, and I think I do. The Tr'Lax system is very desolate. There is only one small sun, and most of the planets do not sustain life. They would've had to leave their system to seek a new home world. As for the second question, I don't know. Perhaps there wasn't enough time."  
  
"Have you ever encountered the Vhoorminians?" asked Hoshi.   
  
"Well, no," replied Phlox, placing his hands on the table. "While I was attending a convention for the Inter-Species Medical Exchange, I often heard talk of the Klingons and Vhoorminians. Several species had tried to conduct trade with them, especially the Klingons, but became extremely frustrated trying to work through their governmental system. Apparently it is very tedious."  
  
Hoshi looked across at Phlox. "Why would the Klingons bother to go through their governmental system? From our experiences with them, I would think they would simply take what they wanted."  
  
"The Vhoorminians have very sophisticated ground-to-orbit weaponry," replied Phlox, tilting his head to face the entire table. "A friend of mine who visited Vhoorminia- actually he was the one who suggested my vacationing there, described how the Vhoorminians fear space travel, or any type of air travel. They prefer to stay on their planet. And this weapon is their only protection from space invaders."  
  
"It must be some protection," drawled Trip. "If it can keep the Klingons from invading."  
  
"Are we to assume these Vhoorminians are a hostile, xenophobic society?" asked Malcolm.  
  
Phlox waved his hands in front of his face. "No, no, no no, on the contrary. They are quite hospitable and friendly, albeit aviophobic. They just need to protect themselves. Not all races with superior technology and weapons are hostile."   
  
Malcolm tightened his lips and nodded. "Point taken."  
  
Archer chewed on the corner of his lip, his fingers drumming on the table. "Doc, how far exactly are we from the Morix system?" he asked. "And what is their level of technology? We've had too many problems lately with underdeveloped races, and I'm not so sure I want to open that can of worms right now."   
  
Phlox slowly responded- the eyes of everyone present bearing down on him. "It's maybe a half day off course, a few mere light years. As for their technology, I would say it's close to that of Earths. They are quite further along in some aspects, and much behind in others. But overall I would say equal. Why, may I ask?"   
  
"Well, if this Vhoorminia is as beautiful as you say, and its inhabitants are hospitable, I might just consider some shore leave for my well deserving crew." The room seemed to breathe easier when Archer mentioned that.   
  
"Captain," interrupted T'Pol. "I would be remiss if I did not mention the probe also has a homing device programmed into its system. It is curious as to why the Vhoorminians have not retrieved it after ninety-eight point five years?"  
  
"Maybe we should ask them in person?" suggested Archer, with a smile. "I'd like to see this planet and possibly grant some shore leave. I've seen a lot of tension lately on this ship, and it would be nice to see some of it relieved."   
  
  
~  
  
After dismissal, Trip left the briefing area in a hurry to make the announcement to his staff. But as he stepped up to the next level, he inadvertently bumped into Hoshi Sato. "Sorry, Hosh," he mumbled, pausing to let her pass.  
  
"It's a whole new language to learn," she beamed, her eyes staring through him. "Possibly even more. They could have thousands of dialects."  
  
Trip laughed softly. Of course Hoshi would think of that. A new planet; a new species to explore with different customs and behaviours, and Hoshi would concentrate on the language- and language alone. A million things to do and see, and Trip figured she would spend the whole time with her face in a book, or conversing with a native not about life, but syntax. If anyone on this ship needed a vacation from duties, Trip felt it was her. The woman had a one track mind, and one he'd never been able to break. "Maybe this trip you should try…"  
  
He was cut off when Hoshi grabbed him by his shoulders- her eyes wide with excitement. "Imagine, sir. Another language to add to my collection. I'm gonna have to expand the UT soon if this keeps happening." Then she let go and continued toward her station.  
  
"What'll that make now," Trip said to himself. "Four thousand and twenty-nine?" He shook his head and stepped up to the turbo-lift. "Why do I even bother askin'?" he mumbled, pressing the call button.  
  
  
  
(More to Come)   
  



	2. Part Two

**_  
  
  
'Greetings and salutations.'  
- Christian Slater (Heathers)_  
  
  
Part Two  
**   
  
CAPTAIN ARCHER RAISED THE hot mug to his mouth and blew gently across the surface. The coffee rippled mildly and sprayed burning droplets on his lips. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and slumped down into the chair. He picked up a stack of reports and glanced over them, waiting for his coffee to cool.  
  
His body felt strained and heavy as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. The reports would have to wait since thoughts of shore leave clouded his mind. Although he would not be able to fully enjoy the leave as much as the crew- his responsibilities detaining him, he looked forward to the few hours he would be able to enjoy.   
  
As for the crew, he would make sure they had plenty of free time on Vhoorminia. It would be his top priority. After witnessing the tension between Malcolm and Phlox on the bridge, Archer was sure everyone was wound a little tight. If he remembered correctly, even Commander Tucker was showing signs of irritability, and he was usually the one to brighten everyone's spirits. Archer figured if anyone needed some shore leave, it would be him. That, or have the engineer rip his ship apart in frustration.  
  
That reminded him, what repairs did _Enterprise_ need done exactly? He opened his eyes and scanned his desk, his weary gaze stopping at the PADDs scattered around his now, cool cup of coffee. He sighed and resigned to his inevitable nature.   
  
Returning to the bridge, Archer took his seat. "Mr. Mayweather, I want you to go to warp four. I'd like to arrive at the Morix system ahead of schedule," he announced. "I have to admit, I'm a little anxious to meet these Vhoorminians."  
  
"Aye, Captain," replied the pilot. Then he smiled over his shoulder. "Will you be partaking in shore leave, sir?"   
  
The captain lowered his head, raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure _anyone_ will be granted shore leave, yet. Let's meet them first."   
  
An hour or so later, T'Pol announced their arrival in the Morix system. Archer noticed four planets ranging in size on the view screen- two of which were M-class. The larger one, comparable to Earth, was the most populated. Even more populated than he had anticipated. And since his sensors were corresponding with what Phlox had told them, he assumed this was Vhoorminia.   
  
When _Enterprise_ entered it's orbit, Archer ordered a full stop. A moment later, T'Pol looked up from her screen. "Captain, we seem to have triggered a sensor net. Some sort of interlaced tachyon beams. It would appear the Vhoorminians are aware of our arrival, but no attempts at hails have been made."   
  
Archer stood and turned to T'Pol. "Does everything seem reasonable down there? I'm not about to take sides in anybody's war, am I?"   
  
"Everything appears peaceful, Captain," replied the Vulcan, studying her readouts. "But the doctor was also correct about their varied technology. They have an advanced communication system, but I believe they're still a propulsive powered society, definitely not warp. And although their communications are sophisticated, their scanning technology is not." T'Pol paused and glanced at her readouts. "But this is just an initial scan. Would you prefer to wait until engineering has completed their initial survey?"  
  
"I'll wait long enough for Phlox to get here," replied Archer. "His race has already made contact with these people, and a friendly face might start this off in a good direction." Archer tapped the com on his arm rest and summoned Phlox. Minutes later the doctor arrived and joined Archer in the centre of the bridge.  
  
After filling him in on their position, Archer turned to Hoshi. "Open that hailing frequency, Ensign."   
  
Archer straightened himself and raised his head as he spoke. "My name is Captain Jonathon Archer of the star ship _Enterprise_. We are responding to a distress beacon we picked up a few light years from here. I realize we may be a little late, but maybe we can still be of some service to you. Please respond." He crossed his arms and waited for a response.  
  
Hoshi's excited voice broke the silence. "They're hailing us, Captain, and they're requesting visual."   
  
Archer nodded. A second later the forward view screen filled with the face of a smiling Vhoorminian. He looked almost human; two eyes, evenly placed in the middle of his round face, a small nose and a mouth with very pink lips. His complexion was bronzed, as if he had a permanent tan, and his ears were very small.   
  
Archer could not tell his physical size or strength, but he guessed it at close to that of a human or Vulcan. The only noticeable difference however, was the large forehead peppered with dark brown spots, and the ridge that protruded across the top of his head. It was no higher than half an inch, and it was where his hairline began. And what hair it was- at least on this Vhoorminian. It was long, dark and red; the colour of blood, and coiled in tight ringlets, laced with silver ribbons.   
  
The alien was friendly, and his voice deep and clear when he spoke. "Greetings, _Enterprise_. My name is MiVix. I am the Chancellor of Vhoorminia, Kaine Sectate, and ruler of this planet. It is a great joy to meet new races. Have you come to visit, or is there a business situation that brings you here?"  
  
Archer smiled back at the Vhoorminian. "Hello, Chancellor MiVix. It's an honour to meet you. We were answering a distress beacon we found, and thought we could be of some assistance?" Archer noticed some chattering off screen, and the Chancellor turned his head to address the voices. What he said to them was inaudible, but then he turned his attention back to Archer and the Denobulan standing next to him.  
  
"Ah yes, the distress signal. We thought that had been destroyed. It is quite old now. Our ancestors placed it during their maiden voyage, before they were able to find our new home. We are of no need of assistance to that degree anymore. Our society is prospering quite well with what the ancestors brought over with them." The Chancellor looked mournful as he said the last few words. "I regret most of our people were never able to join us here on our new world."  
  
"I'm sorry, Chancellor. I didn't mean to dredge up old wounds," Archer replied.   
  
The face on the screen smiled back and nodded. "It is quite alright, Captain Jonathon Archer. It is history, and we have learned to move forward. Our goal now is to complete the construction of our new cities and expand across this great and vast new planet of ours."  
  
"Ah then," Archer announced. "I think we can be of some service. In exchange, of course, for a small price."  
  
The Vhoorminian's face grew somewhat skeptical. "And what would be that price be?"   
  
"All I ask, is for my crew to be able to enjoy your planet- with your permission of course. We've been travelling along time and my crew would appreciate a little rest."   
  
The Chancellor clasped his hands in front of his face, grinning from small ear to small ear. "Oh joy to us! We would be happy to accommodate you and your crew. We have plenty of magnificent sites and recreational facilities for you to enjoy. And tonight we will feast. I am personally inviting you, and your high officials, to be my honoured guests in our Great Hall. Any friend of the Denobulans is a friend of ours." The Chancellor nodded towards Phlox.   
  
Archer noted the doctor's chest puff out ever so slightly. He made the introduction then thanked the Chancellor for the invitation. With that, the view screen went blank and the original view of the planet came back up.   
  
Archer turned to address his bridge crew- who were all smiling, except of course for the stoic Vulcan standing at the science station. Archer felt good about his decision thus far and glad he would be able to grant the crew a little break from their duties. He was even gladder that through the Chancellor's private invitation, he and the senior officers would be able to scout the planet before deploying the rest of the crew.   
  
"T'Pol," he said. "Send a probe down to gather any information possible about laws, customs and points of interest we should be aware of, and notify Trip to make sure engineering starts their scans. I'll be in my ready room. Senior officers, we'll rendezvous in the shuttle bay in four hours." Archer directed his attention specifically towards Phlox- who was fidgeting beside him. "I would like you to join us Doctor, if that doesn't inconvenience you?"  
  
Phlox almost jumped out of his mottled skin at the inclusion. "I would be quite pleased, Captain."   
  
~   
  
Trip walked into the shuttle bay to find T'Pol, Hoshi, Phlox and the captain already there. T'Pol was lecturing on the laws of Vhoorminia, so Trip walked over and leaned against the shuttlecraft. He turned to the sub-commander to catch the rest of the briefing, but his concentration was distracted by the stiffness of his dress uniform. Trip always preferred the regular uniform, it was much less constricting. And when Malcolm and Travis walked in a few minutes later, both wearing their dress uniforms, Travis was also pulling at his collar. Malcolm, on the other hand, looked perfectly comfortable.   
  
The captain interrupted his musings when he announced departure. "Ensign, I have the coordinates of the landing site. It's an empty park just inside the cities limits. According to Chancellor MiVix it shouldn't be a far walk." Archer stepped into the shuttlecraft and motioned for them to follow. "It'll give us a chance to see a little of the city anyway. And I'm sure we could all use the walk."  
  
The officers climbed aboard, and after pre-check the shuttle was cleared for departure.   
  
On the planet, Trip stepped eagerly out of the shuttle and planted his feet on the firm ground. He anticipated seeing the beautiful landscape Phlox had bragged about, but instead he saw nothing but shadows and a soft illuminating glow coming from the distance. It was night, and not much could be seen. But the air was cool and fresh with the slight sent of eucalyptus. It reminded Trip of a garden in the Florida Keys his father used to take him to as a child.   
  
The captain pointed the way and took the lead, interrupting Trip's lapse into nostalgia. He quick stepped to take his side, and the rest of the crew fell in behind. As they neared the edge of the park, the familiar sounds of a city grew louder. And when they stepped onto the paved walkway, Trip stopped suddenly- his mouth slightly agape.   
  
The city was aglow with phosphorescent street lights suspended by old-fashion, Earth-like lamp posts. The streets were lined with colourful buildings, reaching up to seven stories high. Some had round transparent domes for roofs, some had peaked arches, while others were still being constructed. As the commander glanced up and down the streets, he also noted the mismatch of old and new technologies.   
  
But there was nothing old about the city. Vhoorminians were roaming the streets; wandering in and out of shops and restaurants while three-wheeled vehicles moved slowly toward their intended destinations. The city had a spherical shape to it, centred around their head government, with the roads curving gently in the distance. A common city plan for twentieth century Earth.   
  
The inhabitants themselves were of average human height, and varied in weight and physique. They were clothed in both colourful pant and tunic outfits, similar to Starfleet dress uniforms, or draped in tight smooth cloth that flowed easily at their sandaled feet.   
  
"It's amazing isn't it?" asked Archer.   
  
"Just thinking that myself, sir," replied Trip. He looked up into the night sky and quickly located_ Enterprise_- a bright star amongst many. With a smile, he let his eyes fall back to the planet, noting the shift of blues in the skyline.   
  
The captain nudged his shoulder and pointed down the road. "Shall we? We don't want to be late. After all, we are the guests of honour at the Great Hall."  
  
The _Enterprise_ crew strolled down the streets glancing about, taking in as much as they could with their tricorders, and with their own personal sensory equipment- their eyes and ears. By the time they reached the Great Hall they were all satisfied Vhoorminia, so far, would make a great place for shore leave. Trip also decided he was hungry, and couldn't wait to try the new Vhoorminian delicacies.   
  
Chancellor MiVix greeted them on the front steps outside the Great Hall- a complex of buildings attached by skyways on intermittent levels. Trip admired the buildings for their aesthetically pleasing mathematical symmetry, while Hoshi, of course, tried to decipher the symbols displayed on each building.   
  
He couldn't understand how she wasn't able to see anything but language on a world as beautiful as Vhoorminia. Trip shook his head, but didn't say anything to her. Hoshi was a linguist, and on a good day a little uptight when confronted about her lack of outside interests. She also looked so focused in her present task, Trip didn't want to interrupt. He also felt the conversation would just get him nowhere. From his experiences, language was her only pride and passion. She was rarely found enjoying anything else. When she was, it was usually short lived or at the least, job related. Trip shook his head again and turned back to the Great Hall.   
  
The main building was five stories tall with a large window that reached from the main floor to the roof. The building itself was round in shape, with three taller domed buildings positioned in a row behind it. Hoshi still hadn't deciphered the alien codes or symbols on the buildings, but the Chancellor pointed out the taller buildings were the Houses of the Sectate. The spherical building in the foreground was the Great Hall itself, and where all major deliberations concerning Vhoorminia took place, wherein each Sectate had equal representation.  
  
The Chancellor guided his grateful visitors through the doors into a large round, spacious room. Balconies overlooked the hall on each level, and Trip could see Vhoorminians watching them as they passed through toward the dinning room.   
  
It was a large ballroom, lavishishly decorated with landscape murals, and a glowing crystal hanging from the centre of the ceiling. It dangled over an enormous round dining table, covered end to end in plates and trays of mysterious foods. Trip could smell the rich and sweet aromas emanating from the table and his mouth began to water.   
  
Chancellor MiVix spread his arms out in gesture, grinning at his visitors. "Please, have a seat. Anywhere would be fine, we are all equal here. Except, Captain," he paused and pulled a chair out from the table. "I would be honoured if you would sit next to me and share your company?"  
  
"Thank-you, Chancellor. I'd be happy to," replied Archer.   
  
~  
  
Captain Archer slid into the offered seat and glanced around to see if his crew was doing the same. They seemed apprehensive at first, being accustomed to stricter protocols, but eventually they scattered themselves around the table. Hoshi and Travis wandered around to the other side, while T'Pol pulled out the closest chair to her. Malcolm, Phlox and Trip seated themselves side by side across the table. Archer could see that Malcolm was uncomfortable and had chosen his seats accordingly next to someone familiar. He had expected as much from the security officer, but Archer had thought Trip and Phlox would have spread out.   
  
The meal went smoothly, with the crew enjoying the food equally as much as the company. T'Pol had even managed to engage herself in conversation with one of the heads of the Military Cabinet, Minx Sectate. Archer found this quite intriguing, considering the Vulcan's distinct animosity towards dinner companionship. T'Pol usually preferred to eat alone while reading.   
  
Archer was also surprised to see that Trip had devoted most of his attention to a young man two chairs away from him. Normally this would not seem so out of place, but considering there was an attractive female with long, flowing red hair beside him, Archer was curious. Trip Tucker the III had a weakness for beautiful women, and usually never let one slip past him unnoticed. But right now, the chief engineer was talking animatedly with the young man and wasn't taking any notice of the girl.   
  
A sudden nudge at his elbow caught his attention and he turned to see his host leaning toward him. The Chancellor pointed discreetly across the table at the budding friendship. "I see your officer has found a friend in our honourable, Sacha. He is from the Kaine Sectate, and is one of our Internal Cabinet Leaders. But it is a shame you know," his voice trailed off, and Archer felt they were about to enter sensitive territory.  
  
He recognized the look of sadness on Chancellor MiVix's face. It was the same look he had given when he spoke of the ancestors. "Is there something wrong?" Archer prodded, hoping that he was not overstepping his bounds.  
  
"I'm afraid he's dying," the Chancellor admitted, averting his gaze. "But please, I ask that you do not share this with your chief engineer. I'd hate to see him saddened after he has gone to the trouble of befriending our Sacha. He will tell him in good time if the need should arise."   
  
Archer nodded. They had been introduced during arrival, but Archer hadn't remembered Sacha's name till the Chancellor had mentioned it again. He felt bad about that now. "I'm sorry to hear that, you have my word," he promised, and then looked across at Sacha. "He seems so healthy," he remarked. "But then again, I'm not familiar with your race. Is there anything you can do for him?"   
  
"I'm afraid not. He's in the last stages of a rare disease that has inflicted our race for hundreds of cycles. We have found no cure, but our medical scientists are currently researching new prospects every day. It is hopeful, but I'm afraid, most likely not in Sacha's life span."  
  
Archer considered the unpleasant news, and unfortunately could relate. Earth had always been plagued by one disease or another, dating back farther than he cared to remember.   
  
"But he is lucky in one regard," continued MiVix. "He will be able to partake in the Cleansing Ceremony."  
  
"Cleansing Ceremony?"   
  
"Yes. We believe in a suicidal ritual that allows the sick and elderly to cleanse the negative entities from their souls so they can travel to the final resting place in a pure, natural and innocent state. It is quite a beautiful and touching ceremony."   
  
"I'm sure it is, Chancellor. I'm familiar with such rituals. Many cultures on Earth practice suicide as well. Although most are against it, the practice is quite wide spread."   
  
"I will remember that, but now let us talk of happier subjects. This is a time of joy." Chancellor MiVix straightened and proudly gestured around the table. "How do you like our Great Hall, Captain? We have tried to reflect our equal and just society through our spherical architecture. To us, the sphere represents great equality, with no top or bottom, or start or ending point. No one takes precedent over another in our society. Not even myself."  
  
Archer smiled. "_King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_," he mused aloud.  
  
"Who is this, King Arthur?" inquired the Chancellor.  
  
"He was a great King in Earth legend who believed in equality. He sat with his Knights at a round table such as yours. They were all equal when they sat at this table; no one took precedence over another."  
  
Chancellor MiVix smiled at this. "I would like to have met this great King of yours. He seems an admirable comrade."   
  
Archer laughed at the inevitability.   
  
The rest of the evening went smoothly, everyone eating and talking and enjoying themselves to the fullest. After dinner, they engaged in formalities which lasted about an hour, and then Archer and his crew left for the evening. He granted his senior officers a chance to look around, but firmly reminded them to be in the conference room by 0800h for the briefing. He wanted to discuss their impressions and recommendations before scheduling shore leave for the rest of the crew.   
  
~  
  
Kintz staggered out into the cool night air reeking of alcohol. He had spent the last four hours drowning his frustrations in a drinking establishment down the road from the Great Hall. After five drinks, he had become an abusive, uncooperative patron. After eight, he had become downright violent. The bar keep had cut him off and kicked him to the street. And now, he was clumsily making his way toward his lodging.   
  
Kintz grumbled and burped as he dragged his tired, intoxicated body toward his awaiting bed. Repulsed Vhoorminians turned up their noses as he passed by, an acrid smell wafting from his squalid clothes. Kintz just huffed and spewed obscenities as they recoiled at his presence. He even tried to pick a fight with one Vhoorminian who wouldn't get out of his way. And when the obstacle refused to fight back, Kintz threw a misguided punch and sauntered onward. Never realizing the passive Vhoorminian was really just a lamp post.   
  
His race was not usually welcome on Vhoorminia. The Sectates had voted on a restriction law that only allowed parties of no more than five to occupy the planet. So this particular alien was alone on Vhoorminia, exiled from his ship for being nothing more than a useless drunk and nuisance. He had taken refuge on Vhoorminia, for lack of anywhere else better to go. And his shuttle wasn't in any better condition than he was.   
  
Now Kintz was trying to reclaim his position, but unfortunately his irrefutable lifestyle was hindering all attempts. If only he could prove his loyalty, if only he could get his shuttle repaired and get off this forsaken democratic world. That was all he wanted in life.  
  
The alien slumped down on a bench, his figure shadowed by a broken street lamp. The lack of light kept him invisible from the guests exiting the Great Hall across the street, but it did not, however, obscure the alien's vision of them. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his grimy, reddish hands and stared across the street in disbelief. Were his eyes fooling him? Had the alcohol permeated his mind so much that it was playing tricks on him?  
  
"No," he exclaimed under his breath. "Never has the dawn of battle been so victorious." The alien cautiously rose and hid behind the lamp post. "Duras will sing my praise when he hears about this," he breathed. "I'll regain my commission in the Empire! Perhaps they will even make me captain... And grant me my own bird-of-prey... And crew!" He stood there, drowning himself in dilutions of grandeur, watching as the _Enterprise_ officers split up and disappeared.  
  
When Kintz had taken his reveries of power, riches and women to the point of exhaustion, he collapsed against the lamp post for support. His head was spinning from the effects of the alcohol, and his body was feeling heavier and heavier. He needed sleep, but he thought it better to contact Duras right away. But evidently his body decided otherwise. He crashed to the ground in a quiet thud and began snoring.  
  
  
  
(More to Come) 


	3. Part Three

  
  
_**'Seven years would be sufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.'  
- Jane Austin (Sense and Sensibility)  
  
  
**_**Part Three**_**  
**_   
  
COMMANDER TUCKER WAS HEADING toward the turbo lift the next morning when the captain fell into step beside him. Trip looked himself over, not sure if Archer realized he was just coming in. He looked dishevelled, yet presentable none-the-less.   
  
"Trip, I trust you enjoyed yourself last night?" asked Archer.   
  
"Ah yes, Cap'n… I um, I was just..." replied Trip.  
  
"Returning to the ship?" Archer asked.   
  
Apparently he knew.  
  
"You've caught me, sir," blushed Trip. "But I assumed since I wasn't required for duty till 0800h, and I was always within com link... And I was already there..." Archer gestured for him to stop, but Trip continued. "Captain, I assure you, I was with Sacha all night. We were talking, and..."  
  
"Trip, it's alright. You don't have to explain your off-duty whereabouts to me. It's your personal time; you can do whatever you want with it. Just as long as you don't get into any trouble." The captain folded his arms behind his back with a coy smile.  
  
"Thank-you, Captain," replied Trip.   
  
Hours later, Trip was sitting on the floor outside the shuttle bay. Somehow, he had been assigned first shuttle duty, and was not amused. "You do the crime, you do the time," he mumbled good-naturedly. Then the sounds of nearing footsteps made his heart sink- another crewman off to have fun. He dropped his head and stared at the floor between his legs.   
  
"Commander? What are you doing on the floor? Why aren't you down on the planet?"   
  
Hoshi's voice surprised him. She was the last person Trip expected to see. He put on his most sincere smile. "Just waiting for you, Hoshi," he chimed, scrambling to his feet. "Off for a little adventure are we?"  
  
Hoshi folded her arms across her chest and smiled. "Of course," she replied in a friendly tone.   
  
Mid-flight, Trip looked back where Hoshi sat staring out the side window, her hands folded in her lap. She looked very serene and peaceful. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.  
  
She turned and stared blankly at him. "What?"  
  
"It means what's on your mind?"   
  
"Oh, sorry. I was just going over my Vhoorminian. It kind of relaxes me to practice languages." Hoshi uncrossed her arms and crossed her legs.  
  
"You seem relaxed to me." Trip let his eyes wander over the linguist's body. The firm, muscular legs concealed under the purplish uniform pants. The taught stomach and thin arms that hid her true strength so well. Not to mention the dark brown eyes and straight black hair.  
  
"It must be working then," Hoshi mused back.  
  
"About time too."   
  
Hoshi gave him a sharp glare. "What's that supposed to mean, sir?"   
  
"Nothing, forget it." He regretted saying it now. Had he just over stepped his bounds?  
  
"No, I want to know what you meant by that?" Hoshi obviously was not about to let it drop.   
  
And Trip wasn't sure how to continue without offending her further. He realized it was impossible, and kicked himself for speaking before using his head. A mistake he often made. "I just meant that I've never seen you so relaxed. You're usually a little uptight during first contact situations." Now he was in for it. He could literally feel Hoshi's eyes boring into his skull. I've got to stop doing that, he thought to himself.  
  
"Is that what you think of me? I'm uptight?"  
  
"Sorry," Trip breathed.  
  
Hoshi stared at the floor. Her voice even seemed a little hurt. "I'm not that bad, am I?"  
  
Guilt swept through Trip. Here he thought he was in for it, and instead he had hurt her feelings. He was about to apologize, but she continued. "No, I'm not that bad," she said shaking her head. "I can be as calm as the next person. It just depends on the company I guess."   
  
Wham! There it was. The blow he had been waiting for. So that's it, I put you in a tense mood, he thought. "Well I guess no one can live up to the company you keep with your languages," he replied, determined not to show her how much the remark had hurt. "I swear that's all you ever think about."  
  
Content to end the conversation, Trip flew his fingers over the sensitive controls and directed the shuttle to touch down quietly in a park It was large and central, so the Vhoorminian's barricaded it off for _Enterprise's_ benefit. The door opened and Trip quietly followed Hoshi out into the sun drenched planet. The dark shadowy trees from the night before were much prettier now. Their trunks were grey and twisted, reaching out in all directions. They sprouted into clusters of tiny orange, purple and yellow foliage meters above their heads. And small bird-like organisms fluttered from branch to branch as their peaceful home was disturbed by the voices of approaching men.  
  
Captain Archer and a crewman stepped out of the tree line and strode briskly across the lawn. "Just in time. The crewman here is going to relieve you. You're a free man." Archer patted Trip on the shoulder and grinned.  
  
"Thanks, Cap'n," was all Trip said.  
  
"Are you leaving so soon, sir?" asked Hoshi.  
  
"I've had about as much of their 'democracy' as I can handle for the day," replied Archer, as he and the crewman headed for the shuttle. "Phlox was being generous when he said these Vhoorminians were a 'bit annoying'. It took them two hours to decide how high a road sign should be placed on a post." Archer shook his head and spoke into the ground. "They had to call representatives from each Sectate to ensure equal representation - just so they could vote on an exact height. It really was a tedious experience to witness. I'd hate to see them deliberate on something important, like what corner to put the post on." He raised his arms in a dramatic surrender. "I leave them to you."  
  
Trip waved good-bye as the shuttle lifted into the air, then he turned and noticed Hoshi standing beside him. "So," he said with a nervous smile, rocking back on his heels. "You got a big day planned?"  
  
Hoshi pulled her pony tail tight. "A lot to learn on a new planet," she replied, bobbing her head slightly.  
  
"I hear the library has an extensive language department," he suggested in a helpful manner. "And there's a nice café next door you might want to check out."  
  
"Well, actually," began Hoshi. But she was cut off when Trip gave her a pat on the shoulder and a quick wave good-bye.   
  
He left her in the park, hoping he had returned to her good graces with the library suggestion. He hoped she would enjoy herself, even though it was the last place Trip would have wanted to spend an afternoon. He preferred more intimate contact with new species, and went looking for his new friend, Sacha.   
  
About an hour later, he found him talking with another Vhoorminian at a table outside a small restaurant. Trip took a seat and smiled at the stranger. His clothes were not as colourful as Sacha's; they were grey and white robes layered one on top of the other, whereas Sacha wore a bright red tunic with gold trim. The stranger's face was also very insipid, unlike most of the other Vhoorminians Trip had encountered- they, were all smiles and hello's.   
  
Trip passed over the stranger and nodded at Sacha. "So, what's on the schedule for today?"  
  
"I'm afraid not much. I'm feeling a bit under the weather. Would you mind if we just shared some conversation? I'm not in the mood for adventure, but I am fascinated in hearing more about your sky travels." Sacha coughed out the last words, causing the stranger to support his shoulders. Sacha waved him off and took a sip from a drink he had been nursing.   
  
Trip wasn't sure what to make of this, but Sacha was a high official in the Vhoorminian government, so he assumed the stranger was some sort of valet. An odd idea, thought Trip, because the valet seemed more annoying than helpful. "Sure, no problem," he replied. "I could talk for hours about space flight. Usually no one ever gives me the chance. Maybe I can even convince you to give it a try sometime?"  
  
Sacha laughed, and explained how their fear of flying had kept them from returning to rescue the others on their home world. Sacha recounted the demonic tales of visions and sky quakes that rocked their ancestor's ships during their maiden voyage here. One of the ships had even exploded.   
  
He told of how 'The Great Books of History' recalled the voyage. And how the remaining Vhoorminians knew the colonizers would not be returning for them. That is why each Sectate sent exactly one thousand representatives on the voyage. They wanted to keep the population equally distributed amongst the Sectates. Every citizen voted on which representatives and Cabinet members would go. The Vhoorminians prided themselves on this system, and considered themselves the benevolent sages of democracy.   
  
Trip's head swam with thoughts of trying to physically organize such a tedious, cumbersome process while their planet was imploding beneath their feet. He had to give the Vhoorminians credit, they were a very focused race- not to mention gracious and dynamic. Sacha was so alive and animated about his people, that when he spoke, his hands flew about him in exaggeration, and he had to stop and catch his breath on several occasions- waning concern from the stranger each time.   
  
"Our government is separated into four Cabinets," continued Sacha. "Each represented by a member from every Sectate; Kaine, Minx and Krolla. Each and every position is an honour, and one must be voted in by the population, except the Chancellor's seat of course."  
  
"How does one become Chancellor?" asked Trip.  
  
"Familial inheritance. And we have been fortunate to have MiVix hold the chair for as long as I can remember. Chancellor MiVix is a fine example of the Kaine's biological dominancy. He is also a close friend of mine, and has been of invaluable support during my ..." His words slurred to a stop, and he paused to sip more of his drink.   
  
"You mean each Sectate is different according to their ...their, physiology?" asked Trip.  
  
"In a way. We're all Vhoorminians, but there are physical differences between the Sectates. It's an inheritable biological trait. Some of us are more affirmative in our actions than others. But everything always concludes in agreement when we vote. It would be a much different matter though, if one of the Minx or Krollas held our top seat. Nothing would ever get accomplished, and we would be so far behind technologically, that this conversation would probably never have existed between us."  
  
Trip stirred in his seat, recognising a deeper aspect of the Vhoorminians culture.  
  
~  
  
Captain Archer was busy himself, also learning the same facts Trip Tucker was acquiring down on the planet. A crewman had downloaded the information obtained from T'Pol's initial probe into _Enterprise'_s computer, and Archer was familiarizing himself. The same look of disbelief that crossed Trip's face, now swept across his.   
  
The door to his ready room chimed, interrupting his studies. "Come," he sighed, not removing his eyes from the monitor. Sub-Commander T'Pol stepped in and stood in her usual stoic position- at attention, with her hands clasped behind her back. Her face was serene, and expressed nothing about her intentions. "T'Pol, I'm glad you're here. I was just reading up on the Vhoorminians." Archer leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand.  
  
"This is the reason behind my intrusion, Captain. I too, found the Vhoorminians physiology quite curious." T'Pol dropped her hands to her side and approached the captain.   
  
Now Archer was even more intrigued. "You mean it's their physiology that's responsible for this?"  
  
T'Pol nodded toward the empty chair beside him. "May I?"   
  
"Please."  
  
T'Pol seated herself rigidly in the chair and began. "Many millennia ago, a certain variation occurred in their DNA due to a mutation in a gene. This mutation was caused by electromagnetic fallout of their closest star. Over time, this variation was inherited in the offspring, creating separate gene pools. It's an excellent example of Mendellian genetics."  
  
"And, this mutation," started Archer. "It somehow caused a change in their behaviour?"  
  
"That is correct," answered T'Pol. "The mutation ceased the production of a catalytic enzyme responsible for the chemical reaction which produces phenoline. This, phenoline, is able to dictate a certain characteristic in Vhoorminians. Phenoline is equivalent to adrenaline in humans; only more potent."   
  
Archer sat with his chin in his hand, staring wide-eyed at the Vulcan.   
  
"According to my research," continued T'Pol. "It is clearly an example of incomplete dominance. A Krolla possess two recessive genes, and a Minx has a heterozygous pair of the genes. The Kaine do not carry the gene at all. And after escaping to their new world, the newly appointed Chancellor was assigned the task of keeping the populations of each Sectate equal. The appointed one, an ancestor of MiVix, legally restrained marriages and procreation to within Sectates only. Apparently, inter-sectate procreation is punishable by law, and the penalty is quite severe. The child must be killed."  
  
"Fascinating. _Disturbing_, but fascinating nonetheless." Archer rose and circled his desk. He leaned against the corner and closer to T'Pol. "The Vhoorminians pride themselves on being a fair and equal society, yet their laws prevent this from ever happening."  
  
"Quite accurate, Captain."   
  
"The Kaines are born leaders. Their physiology dictates that they will usually win any argument because the Krolla's are born followers, and I can only assume the Minx are fence-sitters."   
  
T'Pol looked questioningly at the captain. "I'm not sure I'm familiar with the term 'fence-sitters'?"  
  
"It means not taking a side. The Kaine's have more phenoline, which would make them a more aggressive people, while the Krolla are subservient- due to the lack of this phenoline," explained Archer.  
  
"And the Minx fall in between," finished T'Pol. "Fascinating. They have doomed themselves from ever reaching their desired state of pure equality."  
  
Archer nodded, realizing that it would be hard to look at the Vhoorminians in the same light- knowing what he now knew. He thanked T'Pol for the information and dismissed her a moment later. It wasn't until several hours later that they reunited for dinner with the Chancellor.   
  
~  
  
There was a knock at the door and Chancellor MiVix looked up from his desk to see his young secretary peep her head through. "Yes, what is it Roulla?" he asked, rather annoyed by the interruption.  
  
"There is someone here to see you, Chancellor." The secretary cleared her throat before continuing. "He says his name is Kintz. He's a ... a Klingon."  
  
MiVix drew in a deep breath, and was about to tell the secretary to dismiss the visitor when the door swung open and Kintz barged in. MiVix jumped to his feet and reached for the security alarm. But Kintz grabbed his arm before he was able to activate it.   
  
"I would not do that if I were you," threatened the Klingon. "I believe you will be interested in my proposition. It might be very profitable for you."  
  
MiVix stared at the intruder for a moment, contemplating whether or not to trust him. The Klingon's face was impassive, yet there was urgency behind his eyes. "Roulla," he said slowly. "That will be all. You may go now." The secretary nodded and closed the door behind her. Kintz released his grip, and the Chancellor slowly took his seat. "So, what is this proposition you think I'll be so interested in?"  
  
Kintz smiled and sat in the empty chair behind him. He leaned back and smirked across the desk at the Chancellor. "I understand you are interested in acquiring technology, Chancellor?"  
  
"Maybe," MiVix answered skeptically. He was glad to hear the proposition concerned obtaining technology, but he also knew that Kintz could not be trusted. He had done business with the Klingons before, and had not enjoyed the experience. The Klingons were a vile, degenerate and volatile race that prided themselves on their warrior nature. When the Vhoorminians had asked them to leave, the Klingons had left a path of destruction behind them before finally being chased away. They vowed to return to seek revenge. They never did return, and MiVix was skeptical that maybe this was why Kintz was here now. Not that MiVix didn't have confidence in the Vhoorminan's defensive capabilities, but still, no one wanted war.  
  
"I assure you, you will be interested in acquiring this piece of technology," suggested Kintz.  
  
"And what technology would that be? I'm not aware of anything the Klingons have that they've previously been willing to trade."  
  
"It is not Klingon technology I'm talking about, it's Earth technology." Kintz' voice took on a more hostile tone as he continued to speak. "They have this matter-energy conversion device that allows them to transport people and things to other locations instantaneously. We call it a transporter."  
  
MiVix's curiosity was sparked by Kintz's description. He leaned over his desk, motioning for the Klingon to lean in closer, and spoke in an almost whisper. "This device you are talking about, if you are telling the truth of course, would be very valuable to our planet. We have acquired many impressive technologies from other races, but this transporter sounds wonderful. But we should be able to acquire it ourselves- we do have a notorious reputation for getting our hands on things. People seem to trust us somehow. I guess it's our pleasant demeanour that fools them." He sat back rigidly and braced his hands on his desk. "What makes you think you will have anything to do with us obtaining this transporter?"  
  
"Because," smiled Kintz. "I have already communicated with Duras, and there are five Klingon war ships- fully armed, and headed this way. If you do not assist us in acquiring the Earth ship itself, we will annihilate you and your planet. Your feeble ground weapons won't be enough to protect you this time."  
  
"What makes you think I won't ask _Enterprise_ for help in protection? You obviously are no threat to them, or you would not be asking us for help."  
  
"Because I know you want their technology as much as we want that ship!" countered Kintz, raising his voice. "And the humans will not hand over their transporter readily. Now, our ships will be here in four days. You'd better have _Enterprise_ in your possession when they arrive. In payment, we will let you have their transporter technology- as petty as it is to ours. In the meantime, I will keep myself hidden to ensure no suspicion."  
  
MiVix didn't like his options, but this technology sounded marvellous and a war with the Klingons at this particular stage in Vhoorminia's development could be crippling. "I'll try my best," he replied. "But Captain Archer has told me he wishes to leave in a day or so."  
  
"Then stall," ordered Kintz.  
  
Roulla's head peeked back into MiVix's office once again. MiVix waved her in. "Chancellor, Sacha's doctor just called. I'm afraid it's bad news."  
  
~  
  
Captain Archer and the sub-commander were sitting in a small, comfortable room inside the Great Hall awaiting their host's arrival. Chancellor MiVix had been detained. And when he finally arrived, he had a worried expression on his face, and was wringing his hands in grief. "I'm sorry to have kept you. But I have just received some sad news about one of our Cabinet Leaders, the one who has taken so quickly to your Commander."  
  
"Is he alright?" asked Archer.   
  
"It seems Sacha has taken a turn for the worse. The Doctor's predict he only has a short time to live. We must arrange for his brother's transportation to Sacha's Cleansing Ceremony. I regret that we will not be able to dine tonight."  
  
"That's understandable, Chancellor. I'm sorry to hear about Sacha. I wish there was something we could do for him," answered Archer, smiling sympathetically.   
  
The three bid good-bye and Archer explained Sacha's unfortunate situation to T'Pol as they left the Great Hall. They were heading back to the shuttle when they ran into a tired Malcolm, Hoshi and Phlox. They were returning from a long day of helping the Vhoorminians resurrect a garden for fruits and vegetables.   
  
Their faces were smeared with dirt, but they said it had felt good to go back to basics and work outside in the fresh air. Together, the five of them walked back to the shuttle, sharing their day's adventures. The captain explained what he learned about the Vhoorminian physiology, and sadly described the predicament of Trip's new friend.   
  
Malcolm, Hoshi and Phlox spoke animatedly- interrupting each other and making it hard for Archer to follow, about the garden and how invigorating it was to work outside again. The fresh air had obviously done them some good, which pleased Archer.   
  
Phlox was particularly overjoyed to be able to share the experiences of his own garden dwelling creatures aboard _Enterprise_ with the Vhoorminian gardeners. But Malcolm griped about all the tedious deliberations that went on concerning which fruits and vegetables would be most beneficial- and where they should each be placed in the garden, and exactly how far apart the rows should be. At one point, Malcolm was almost arrested for suggesting they just throw the seeds in the air and plant them where they fell.   
  
~  
  
Commander Tucker caught up to the crew as they entered the park. He had left Sacha late in the afternoon, and had spent the rest of the day roaming the city. Sacha had become ill, and his aid was adamant about him getting some rest.   
  
And now, as Trip approached his crew members, he realized Sacha's aid was following quickly behind. The aid was calling his name and scurrying across the park. Trip caught the short Vhoorminian as he stopped short, panting and out of breath.  
  
"Mr. Tucker, you must come quickly, it is very important." The urgency in the aid's voice concerned Trip. He had not heard the aid speak more than ten words before, and now he was spurting out words as fast as his lips would allow. "Sacha is waiting for you at his residence. You must come now! Hurry, he is waiting!" he continued, begging and tugging on Trip's elbow.  
  
"Is anything wrong? Is he alright?" questioned Trip.   
  
"I cannot tell you, you must come. Hurry!" He was trying to push Trip along now, which was no easy feat considering the Vhoorminians slight size and frame. Trip looked over the little persistent aid to his captain for permission. Archer nodded, so Trip took off with the aid back through the trees.  
  
Later that evening, Hoshi walked into the mess hall at 0200h. There were two other people present when she arrived; Doctor Phlox at the protein resequencer ordering coffee, and Commander Tucker. He was sitting alone at a table starring into his coffee mug.   
  
Trip looked up at her as she approached, but he wasn't paying much attention. After a moment he realized she was talking to him. "I'm sorry, Hoshi. Did you say something'?"   
  
"May I join you?," she repeated. "You looked a little lonely so I thought I'd come over."  
  
"Sacha wants me to be his Beholder," sighed Trip, gesturing to an empty seat at the table.   
  
Hoshi sat across from him. "What's a Beholder?" she asked softly.  
  
Trip kept his eyes on his empty cup when he spoke. "I assume you know about Sacha's condition?" He raised his head and caught Hoshi's nod. "They have this Cleansing Ceremony they practice on people who're sick or really old. In other words, people who know the time of their unfortunate demise." He smirked and pulled at his chin. "The Vhoorminian's believe in sending their sick and elderly to their final resting place in a pure form. They bottle up all their negative entities and pass them on to a relative or close friend called the Beholder. They, in turn, bury it in some sacred ground for eternity. Sacha's only family is his brother Silla, and he's not sure if he'll make it in time. So he asked me to stand in if he can't make it. Apparently the Chancellor suggested it."  
  
"Bottle?" asked Hoshi, backtracking a bit.  
  
Trip furrowed his brow and double checked his cup for coffee. Still empty. "Actually it's more of an amulet the Beholder wears around their neck till they reach the sacred ground. Sacha says it's harmless to the Beholder, and it carries a great honour."   
  
Phlox sauntered over with a pot of fresh hot coffee. He sat at the end of the table and began pouring. "So, have you decided yet, Commander?" he asked in a less chipper voice than usual. "Because you know, I'd be happy to accompany you... For moral support."   
  
Trip ignored the question and sipped his coffee. "Can you believe that? Ironic isn't it, asking me to take the place of his brother in an honoured position?" He looked absently over Hoshi's shoulder at the wall behind her.   
  
"All due respect, Commander, but you've proven you're more than honourable in my book," stated Hoshi. "I'll go with you as well. If you want."  
  
Trip shrugged dismissively. Then after a moment he smiled gently and thanked her for the comment. Then, he turned to Phlox. "Thank you, doc. I'd appreciate it if you came with me. I could use the support."   
  
The Denobulan clapped his hands, grinning. "Then it's all settled. Tomorrow morning we go to the Cleansing Ceremony." The doctor stood and made his way to the door, muttering to himself about what he should wear and how he'd never been to a Cleansing Ceremony before.   
  
Hoshi and Trip talked a little more, and then retired for the evening- Trip to his engines and Hoshi to her bed.  
  
  
  
(More to Come)   
  



	4. Part Four

_**  
  
'All technology should be assumed guilty until proven otherwise.'  
- David Brower  
  
  
**_**Part Four**_**  
**_   
  
SILLA WAS BECOMING MORE and more agitated with the young woman on the monitor. "Please check again," he urged, knowing full well the Chancellor had made his travel reservations.  
  
"I will check again, but I'm quite sure your name will not suddenly appear," said the voice.   
  
"Please!" demanded Silla. "My departure for the capital is very important. I must leave today if I am to arrive in time for my brother's Cleansing Ceremony."  
  
"Oh, I was not aware of the urgency," conceded the travel agent.   
  
Silla waited impatiently as the agent searched through countless schedules and reservation lists. It wasn't a particularly busy time of the cycle for Transcarriers; but the Chancellor had insisted on making them, stating that since the trip was of such spiritual importance he would rather not take any chances.  
  
The travel agents face blipped back on Silla's screen. "I'm sorry, there in only one Transcarrier scheduled to leave for the capital today and there is a private booking that has taken up all the seats. It was made earlier today. I'm sorry. Maybe I can book you on a Transcarrier leaving for the Tuka province and you can transfer there?"  
  
"And there will be a reservation for me once I arrive at the Tuka terminal?" Silla asked, biting back his anger.  
  
"I will make them myself," smiled the agent.  
  
~  
  
Trip Tucker was already in the shuttle bay when Doctor Phlox arrived at precisely 1000h the next day. He was wearing a colourful pant and tunic ensemble, and looked so proud of his outfit, Trip didn't have the heart to tell him how inappropriate he looked. But then maybe the Vhoorminians saw this event as a time of joy? Trip couldn't see how. Someone was dying; his new friend was dying to be more specific.   
  
It was still uncertain if Silla would be able to make it on time since it took a long time to travel from the Vhorix province on ground. If only they were not so aviophobic, _Enterprise_ could have sent a shuttle to fetch him.   
  
Trip hadn't known Sacha long, and the idea of taking Silla's place as Beholder made him a little uncomfortable. Trip sighed and mentally kicked himself. He had been contemplating how all this was effecting him, meanwhile Sacha was dying and his own brother might not be able to take the place of his Beholder. Trip imagined how devastated both Sacha and Silla must be feeling. Then he shook the guilt from his mind and decided to be honoured to take Silla's place, and do the best job he could- all things considered.  
  
~  
  
  
They travelled to the planet mostly conversing in small talk; Phlox trying to keep the topics light and playful for his friends benefit. Eventually the shuttle landed and Trip and Phlox disembarked. Without delay, they headed through the trees toward Sacha's impressive home. Four white columns supported a green veranda roof which jutted out from a white square building. The house was two stories high but only one floor. The ceiling was a transparent dome that revealed the bright sky above.   
  
The main room where the ceremony was to take place was centrally located with doors and hallways located beside each corner. Sacha was sitting in a grand, high-backed chair at the far end of the room. He was accompanied by his aid, Chancellor MiVix and an empty chair- presumably for Trip.   
  
To Sacha's left was an elevated bed supported by a platform. The bed was elegantly draped in a silver blanket similar to the rescue blankets used on _Enterprise_. The only difference was that the ones in sickbay were used to wrap the cold and injured; the one here was to wrap the dead.  
  
Phlox could feel Trip tugging on his elbow, directing them toward Sacha and his entourage. The Chancellor greeted them both with a sincere smile and open arms. Sacha was looking weak and attempted a smile that resembled more of a grimace.  
  
"Ah, Commander, you're here," started the Chancellor. "We regret that Silla is not able to make it. Even with my influence he was not able to arrive in time. But we are honoured that you will be taking his place." The Chancellor motioned to the empty seat.  
  
"It's my honour," replied Trip, taking the seat gingerly.  
  
"It is so reassuring that you humans take friendship as sincerely as we Vhoorminians. Now if you excuse me, we will be starting shortly and I have preparations to take care of." The Chancellor knelt in front of Sacha and bowed his head before retiring out one of the doors.  
  
Phlox noticed that Trip found the floor at his feet suddenly fascinating. Phlox didn't know what to do either. He glanced around the room and examined the guests strolling about. Every once in awhile someone would bow in front of Sacha in a gesture of respect and offer their condolences.  
  
Phlox clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. Trip and Sacha were huddled in conversation now and Phlox really didn't know what to do. He decided to leave the friends in peace and intermingle with the other guests.  
  
~  
  
Don't leave me, was all Trip could think as he watched the doctor walk away. Get back here or I'll… I'll… Trip noticed Sacha looking at him quizzically, and his anger melted away. His friend really looked sick now, his change in decorum and been quick. One day he was lively and talkative, now he looked pale and in pain. "So, how does this Cleansing Ceremony work anyway?" forced Trip, trying to sound confident he had the right to be sitting in this chair.  
  
Sacha laid a feeble hand on the arm of Trip's chair. "Don't worry my friend; my aid will guide you through it."  
  
Trip glanced behind Sacha's chair. He had forgotten the aid was still standing there. Outside a low bell was ringing throughout the city echoing a sorrowful presence in the room. Trip smiled warmly and tried his best to look comfortable.  
  
~  
  
The Chancellor stepped into Sacha's dining room and noticed his secretary pacing nervously back and forth. Another Vhoorminian was seated at the table adjusting his heavy red and gold robes. He was the Spiritual Sender, the religious leader who would be performing the ceremony. The Chancellor excused the Sender, and once he was out of hearing range, Roulla exploded into a nervous tangle of words and flailing arms.  
  
"Chancellor, Silla will be here tomorrow… he is transferring in Tuka… what are we going to do?! Kintz said to keep them here!"  
  
"I know, I know," soothed the Chancellor. "They will be here in a few days." He braced his hands on his secretary's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Are you forgetting who I am? I can make things happen on this planet. Even without a vote. Anything." He emphasized the last word. "Now just relax. I'll take care of everything. Which Transcarrier is he transferring to in Tuka?"  
  
Roulla closed her eyes and drew in a much needed breath. He words slipped out slowly. "The 540A, which should put him here no later than tomorrow night."  
  
MiVix flashed an enigmatic smile at the young, nervous woman. "And the conductor's name is?"  
  
"Tustilla. Why? What are you planning?"  
  
With a regretful sigh, MiVix replied, "I think sacrificing one lowly conductor is worth the preservation of our planet, don't you?"  
  
"I guess you're right, Chancellor," offered Roulla, in a voice defying her conviction. "But are you sure you don't want to convene a deliberation? This seems too important to pass over the Cabinet's approval?"  
  
"There isn't enough time, Roulla," replied MiVix, dropping his head in regret. "But remember, I'm a Kaine. I'm fully capable of making a decision on my own. I don't need the hassles of calling up other Sectates. Now," continued the Chancellor as he dropped his hands and headed for the door. "Fetch the Spiritual Sender; we have a Cleansing Ceremony to attend."  
  
~  
  
The Chancellor entered the main room followed by a Vhoorminian draped in red and gold robes and carrying a small box. "It's time to begin," whispered Sacha. "If you would help me to my bed?"  
  
Trip darted up, and with the help of the aid, he escorted Sacha to the silver bed. Once Sacha was lying comfortably and the Chancellor and the Sender took their positions beside him, Trip tried to back out of the way, but he was motioned to stay put.   
  
The surrealism of the situation began to overcome him. Trip could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, and his knees were finding it very hard to support his weight. His stomach was also jumping, making it hard to stand still. He clenched his hands behind his back and concentrated on his breathing.  
  
Chancellor MiVix made a short announcement concerning Trip taking Silla's place due to unfortunate circumstances, then turned everyone's attention on the Spiritual Sender. The room went silent as he began the prayer. "To the sun, to the moon, to the final resting place you shall travel free," he began. Trip contemplated turning off his universal translator to hear the prayer in its native language, but decided against it just in case reference was made to the Beholder.  
  
"You lived like a bird that sailed, like the sun at night, a barren river wide," continued the Sender. "I pray for the floods to wash over you. It's here we will be with you in your journey." The Spiritual Sender paused and produced a small black box. Trip almost jumped at the touch of the aid's hand on his wrist. He motioned for Trip to approach the Sender who was holding the box out toward him. Trip took the box and looked around the room for Phlox.  
  
He was standing at the back of the room craning his neck to get a better view. Trip felt much better knowing he was there, he was glad he had come along.  
  
The Spiritual Sender lifted the lid off the box in Trip's hands and produced a small bottle and a black amulet on a leather chain. The amulet was about the size of a poker chip with a mechanical device on one side. Trip turned from the Sender to look at Sacha. He looked more peaceful than anything else; which was the opposite of what Trip was feeling.  
  
The Sender began to speak again, this time directly at Sacha. "Reach to the sky, to this land we will be with you till the sun bursts from your eyes. With our hands we will reach to you." Trip found it ironic that when the Sender was saying these words, he was also supporting Sacha's head and pouring the poison from the bottle down his dying throat. Trip watched Sacha swallow and rest his head back on the pillow. Then he closed his eyes.  
  
Is he dead? Is that it? Thought Trip.  
  
The Sender placed the amulet, mechanical side up, on Sacha's forehead. The room of guests bowed to knee- even Phlox, Trip noticed. "May you arrive in your purest form free of all the negative entities that contained you in life," finished the Sender.   
  
The amulet began to glow a bright blue while Sacha's body was laid to rest forever, never to move again. When the amulet stopped glowing, the Sender carefully removed it and attached the mechanical side to a silver clip resembling a sun burst. Out of the corner of his eye, Trip saw Sacha's aid motioning for him to approach the Sender. He breathed deeply and cautiously stepped forward, thinking that if he stepped softly his knees wouldn't buckle underneath him.   
  
The Sender raised the amulet up to Trip's head- who bent down to accommodate the shorter Vhoorminian. Trip felt himself shaking as the leather material brushed against his cheeks and the amulet fell softly on his chest. A wave of grief so powerful swept over him and he had to steady himself by leaning against the bed. He hoped it wasn't disrespectful, but it certainly had to be more respectful than collapsing to the floor.  
  
When he collected himself, the Chancellor said a few words on Sacha's behalf which ended the ceremony. He and the Spiritual Sender bowed to Trip before leaving the stage. Trip hesitantly bowed back, then followed suit. The crowd rose as he descended the stage, but felt the need to bow before him as he made his way across the room. Getting dizzy from the constant up and down motion, Trip quickly found an empty chair next to Phlox and sat down before he collapsed.   
  
Through the tangle of arms and legs he watched the aid cover Sacha with the ends of the silver blanket. Sacha was gone, and Trip could feel a heavy depression overwhelming him; like his heart tightening under a vice grip. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to leave now, but the Chancellor was approaching through the crowd. Trip rose in respect, but wished desperately to remain sitting.   
"Commander," greeted the Chancellor, bowing before him. "You must be feeling awful. Maybe a little food will help. Shall I get you some?"  
  
Trip put up his hand in protest. "No, thank-you, Chancellor. I couldn't eat anything." He hoped that wasn't disrespectful, but once again, he figured denying food had to be better than throwing it up all over the floor.  
  
The Chancellor smiled and nodded. Someone passed by behind him and bowed to the Beholder of the Amulet before carrying on their way. This is going to get very annoying, thought Trip.  
  
"Silla should be arriving in two or three days, and you can pass the amulet on to him then in a private ceremony. We are very thankful for our cooperation and friendship through all this. You will make a superb Beholder. In the meantime, if there is anything you need I am at your disposal." He bowed again and retreated into the crowd.  
  
Trip watched him disappear as he discreetly clutched his stomach. The feeling had come from left field. Funerals had always made him fell ill, but never this ill, and the need to lie down was becoming more and more persistent with each breath he took.   
  
"Is everything all right, Commander?" asked Phlox. "Maybe you should get some fresh air?"  
  
Trip exhaled deeply and swallowed hard. He could almost taste the bile forming in his stomach. "Doc," he whispered. "Get me outta here."  
  
They walked out into the street, and with each step Trip felt closer to unconsciousness. He struggled to keep alert, but his head was spinning and his stomach was turning. It took all his efforts to place one foot in front of the other and not collapse to the ground. But he pushed on, dreams of his own bed urging him forward.   
  
As they rounded the last corner before the park, a few by-standers noticed the amulet gleaming around Trip's neck and stopped to bow. Trip, not in the mood for ritual, ignored the Vhoorminians and tucked the amulet inside his crew suit. Then his nausea overcame him and he grabbed for Phlox's arm. "I'm gonna be sick," he blurted, through clenched teeth.  
  
Doctor Phlox put an arm around his shoulder and lead him behind a building. Once there, Trip's stomach turned suddenly and regurgitated. He coughed up what little there was and wiped his mouth. Minutes later, and not feeling any relief, they were back on the street and quickly heading for the park. But Trip felt he couldn't go any further. Every inch of his body yearned to collapse. The doctor's strong arms were the last things he felt when his legs finally gave way and he crashed to the ground.  
  
~  
  
Archer and T'Pol had just finished making tedious arrangements for food supplies when they stepped back into the bustling streets. They were heading for the park when Archer noticed Phlox and Commander Tucker walking toward them. But Trip seemed strange somehow; he had lost his confident stride and was clutching his stomach. Then Archer watched as the doctor led Trip behind a building. "Did you see that, T'Pol?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the spot where the two had disappeared.  
  
"I did indeed," she answered.  
  
Archer motioned for his sub-commander to follow him when he noticed Trip and Phlox returning to the street. But their walk quickly turned into a determined run when he saw Trip suddenly collapse into the doctor's arms.  
  
They arrived just in time to stop Phlox from dropping the commander to the ground. "What happened?" Archer asked, as he and T'Pol knelt beside the chief engineer.  
  
"I can't say specifically," replied Phlox, reaching for Trip's radial pulse. "I didn't exactly pack a medical tricorder with me today. But after the ceremony, Commander Tucker said he needed some air, so we left and started back toward the shuttle. A short while later he told me he was going to be sick, and then he collapsed."  
  
Archer nudged his friend gently and called his name, but the commander wouldn't respond. Trip was conscious, but definitely not alert.   
  
Phlox reached for the commander's forehead, a look of concern evident of his face. "He has a fever. We must get him to sickbay."  
  
Archer glanced around the streets. They were still quite a distance from the shuttle, and it wasn't even due to arrive for another half hour. Archer contemplated using the transporter. He still had reservations about using it for bio-transport, but the current situation was starting to edge those feelings away. Then he noticed Trip's head roll to one side. "Hey, Trip. You all right? Can you get up?"  
  
Trip rolled back, wherein Archer could see his eyes. They were filled with pain. Trip was looking up at him, but his mind was obviously somewhere else. Then Trip's body began to convulse. He threw up violently as Phlox and T'Pol gently eased him onto his side, and Archer supported his head. When he was through, Archer laid his friend back down. Trip quickly doubled over into the fetal position, clutching his stomach and shielding his eyes from the sun.  
  
Archer couldn't watch him suffer any more. He stood abruptly and ordered Phlox and T'Pol to help the commander to his feet. They headed behind the building, and before Archer made contact with _Enterprise_, he made a quick survey to see if anyone was watching. Then he pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Four to transport… and hurry," he added, before feeling the tingling sensation of the transporter beam.  
  
~  
  
Chancellor MiVix watched quizzically as Trip and his friendly companion headed through the doors to the outside streets. Perhaps, he thought, this is more difficult for him. These humans must be congratulated for their commitment to friendship. He also had to make sure they weren't up to anything, so he gathered up his robes and headed out the door in pursuit.   
  
The Chancellor tried to follow, but found it hard to match their pace and fell behind several times. Out of breath, he finally spotted them again near the park. The Captain and Sub-Commander were kneeling beside Trip- whom did not look well. A wave of compassion fell on MiVix. He really didn't want to see harm come to anyone; he just wanted to make sure his people were spared an ugly death from the Klingons. That, and he did want to get hold of the wondrous piece of technology the humans, and Klingons, seemed to posses.   
  
MiVix had heard of its use during the Klingon's last visit to Vhoorminia, but he had never seen it in action. And of course, any form of trade or negotiations with the Klingons never produced the technology either. He was beginning to think it was a myth.  
  
So not wanting to lose track of the situation now, he called across the street to the captain, but he could not be heard over the din. And as he scurried across the street to offer his help, he saw Trip being carried around the back of a building. MiVix sped up and glanced around the corner just in time to see four members of the star ship Enterprise dissolve into thin air. His mouth dropped in exasperation. "So this is the precious transporter technology," he breathed in disbelief. "The answer to our prayers."   
  
He quickly ran to the closest public communication station and called his secretary. "You say the conductor's name is, Tustilla?"  
  
"Yes, Chancellor."  
  
MiVix quickly hung up and made another call from a secured line.  
  
~  
  
At the Tuka Terminal, Sacha's brother Silla was waiting patiently to board the 540A, bound for the capital. He was looking at an old picture of himself and his brother when a commotion at the ticket counter distracted his attention. He looked up to see the counter agent going into hysterics. Two constables were explaining something to the agent, and it did not appear to be good news.  
  
Silla tried to ignore the commotion and checked the time on his ticket. He was scheduled to leave shortly, but not soon enough. He had already missed his brother's Cleansing Ceremony.   
  
"Attention Transcarrier patrons," a loud voice boomed over the communication system. "Due to unfortunate circumstances, the 540A to the capital will be delayed. Arrangements have been made, and another conductor is on his way. The 540A should be able to depart in eight hours. We greatly apologize for the inconvenience."  
  
Silla's jaw dropped open. It was imperative he got to the capital, and everything and anything that could go wrong, was. He jumped from his seat and rushed to the counter. He knew the delay wasn't the fault of the ticket agent, but he was about to bear the brunt of Silla's anger anyway.   
  
Silla reached over the counter and grabbed the agent by the shirt. "Why is there a delay?" he asked, between clenched teeth. "I have to be in the capital immediately. If this Transcarrier isn't going to leave for another eight hours, someone better be dead!"  
  
"The conductor," answered the agent.  
  
"The conductor, what?" asked Silla.  
  
"Dead, the conductor is dead," replied the agent, struggling under Silla's loosening grip. "He was murdered." The agent threw Silla's arm off and took a step back from the counter.  
  
Silla dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on the countertop. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He took a deep breath and regained his composure. "You say it will be another eight hours before the next one leaves for the capital?"  
  
The agent took another step backwards. "Maybe ten."  
  
  
(More to Come)  
  
  
  



	5. Part Five

  
  
_**'You know, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don't help.'  
- Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes)  
  
  
**_**Part Five**_**  
**_   
  
CAPTAIN ARCHER WAS STANDING in sickbay contemplating the news concerning Trip's condition. "So what you're saying, doc," he started, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that there's nothing physically wrong with him?"   
  
"Not exactly, Captain," responded Phlox.  
  
"But you just said you couldn't find anything medically wrong."  
  
"Yes, that is what I said," replied the doctor, noncommittally. He walked to his medical monitor and indicated the display. "It appears that Commander Tucker has all the symptoms of a violent influenza virus, but what is so baffling is that the medical scans are not detecting any infected cells or bacterial organisms. He should be physically well. But for some reason he's not." Phlox looked to the diagnostic bed where Trip was lying on his side protecting his eyes from the bright lights of sickbay.  
  
Noting a sudden tension of muscles across Trip's stomach, Archer grabbed an empty dispenser and rushed to the commander's side. He got there just in time to catch the falling vomit as Phlox went down Trip's other side and supported his torso. When Trip was finished, Archer rolled him onto his back and leaned over him. Trip's eyes were open and his dry lips were slightly parted. Despite what the doctor's scans were saying, this man was definitely sick. "Phlox, there must be something you can do for him? At least ease the symptoms," pressed Archer.  
  
Phlox poised his medical tricorder over Trip's body and ran it up and down as he read the life signs on the monitor. "I'm reading a temperature of forty-three degrees, which is dangerously high. But my analytical scans show no tangible physical evidence to support this fever. I can't even hypothesize a cure for an illness that does not seem to exist. It's like he has some sort of phantom illness." Phlox lowered his tricorder. "I'm sorry."  
  
Archer would not accept this. All his science training at the Academy told him there had to be a reason for Trip's sudden collapse and subsequent illness. Things did not just happen without reason. There had to be something the doctor was missing, and Archer would make sure he found it.  
  
He looked down into Trip's eyes, trying to portray some sort of confidence. How could Trip believe he would get better if he didn't believe it himself? "Trip," he said softly. "The doctor is going to do everything he can." He threw a quick glance at Phlox to qualify his claim. "You just have to hang on."  
  
"Yes, Cap'n." Trip's response was feeble and cracked.  
  
Then the doors to sickbay suddenly opened and Malcolm and Hoshi came in- T'Pol right behind them. "I tried to tell them to wait, but they refused," stated T'Pol.  
  
Archer waved them in. Trip had cleared decontamination moments after boarding _Enterprise_, so he didn't see the harm in visitors. With the doctor's permission as well, Hoshi and Malcolm approached the diagnostic bed and tried to cheer up their commander. Archer could see Trip trying to put up a brave front, but his pale face and feeble grin gave him away.   
  
Archer stepped back and allowed the threesome some privacy, but he couldn't help overhear part of the conversation. "Can I see the amulet?" Malcolm was asking.  
  
Archer's mouth dropped open. He stepped up to the bed interrupting the conversation. "What amulet?"  
  
"The one he's wearing around his neck," replied Phlox, as he pointed to the commander's chest. "It's what the Beholder carries to the sacred ground for burial. It contains all the negative entities purified from Sacha's soul. He tucked it away because the constant bowing became irritating."  
  
Archer's eyes went wide; caught between bewilderment and anger. "And you know for certain it's safe to be wearing this?!" He ran his fingers along Trip's neck feeling for the chain- the skin hot and clammy under his touch.   
  
Trip tried to resist by pushing the captain's hands away, but his effort was futile. "No, please," Trip uttered, his physical efforts quashed.  
  
"Trip, this might be what's causing you to be sick," explained Archer, finally finding the leather chain and pulling it out from under Trip's blue T-shirt.  
  
Phlox stepped forward and placed a hand on the captain's shoulder. "The amulet cleared bio-scan as well, and it's not even registering on my medical tricorder. I believe it to be benign; otherwise my scans would have detected something."  
  
Trip tried to sit up, but both the doctor and Archer eased him back down. "Please, Captain. Don't take it off." Then he paused and stared up at the ceiling. "Doc, you said this was like a phantom illness, right? So doesn't that mean it really can't hurt me?"  
  
"Theoretically, yes," replied Phlox.  
  
Trip blinked hard trying to focus. "I can live with being sick for a few days," he started. "But I couldn't live with myself if I betrayed Sacha's trust."   
  
Archer smiled sympathetically. "I understand, Trip," he said. "But I can't say I like this." Then he addressed the doctor. "_Is_ he in any real danger?"  
  
Phlox shrugged, his arms tight across his chest. "I don't believe so. His physical biology in contaminant free. He is only mimicking symptoms of possessing a virus. The Commander is experiencing more of a psychosomatic response."  
  
"I thought the amulet was supposed to be harmless; real or psychosomatic?" voiced Hoshi, pushing up beside Archer to stand next to the bed.  
  
"That's what Sacha told me," coughed Trip.  
  
"Maybe it is completely benign to the Vhoorminians," remarked Phlox. "But may I remind you, Commander Tucker is human. His physical constitution may not be able to protect itself against the amulet's spiritual potency."  
  
"I'll be fine, captain," whispered Trip. "Maybe I'll feel better after I get some sleep."  
  
Archer nodded, but didn't like the situation at all. He didn't so much mind the delay in the mission so much as he minded his best friend being confined to sickbay for the next few days. It was hard to watch anyone in his predicament, and even harder for Archer to watch Trip. They had known each other for years, and not once did Trip ever look so vulnerable.  
  
"Bridge to Captain Archer," came a voice over the com system.  
  
Archer stepped over to the wall and keyed the pad- his eyes never leaving Trip's form. "Archer here, go ahead."  
  
"There's an incoming hail from the planet, sir. It's Chancellor MiVix."  
  
"I'm on my way," replied Archer, then he looked at the doctor. "I don't want anymore surprises. Report back to me if you find anything new. I mean anything." The doctor nodded, and Archer left sickbay with T'Pol in tow.  
  
~  
  
Shortly after, Malcolm followed suit while the doctor retired to his office to study his scans. Hoshi remained behind to keep Trip company.   
  
"You don't have to stay." Trip's voice was soft and hoarse. "I know there's a dozen languages down there waiting for your expertise."  
  
Hoshi watched in stunned silence as her commander rolled away from her and shielded his eyes from the harsh overhead lights. "Is that what you really think of me?" she asked, trying her hardest not to make it sound like an accusation. He was after all, not only the chief engineer, but one of the highest ranking officers on board. Protocol still had to be enforced.  
  
"Just leave me the hell alone," Trip grumbled, his face buried in the pillow.  
  
Hoshi's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe the commander had just spoken to her like that. Senior officer or not, she still garnered the respect of being spoken to in a civil manner. She braced her hands on her hips and shifted her weight, unsure how to respond. "No," she finally said with determination. "No, I'm not leaving. I stayed because I wanted to, not because someone ordered me to, or because I think I'll find some hidden language in that amulet of yours. I'm staying."  
  
When the commander didn't respond, she figured he had fallen asleep. She sat down beside the bed and grabbed an extra pillow for under Trip's head. Then she inched closer and began rubbing his back just like her grandmother used to do when she was sick. She remembered how soothing it felt, and how it helped her sleep when it would not come naturally.  
  
~  
  
Archer was sitting in his chair centre bridge, his legs uncrossed and bracing both hands on his arm rests. He knew Trip's condition was in no way malicious on the part of the Vhoorminians, but somehow Archer couldn't contain the slight irritation in his voice. "Chancellor MiVix, nice to hear from you."  
  
"Captain Archer, I thought we had become friends," he almost shouted through the view screen. Archer and T'Pol shared an incredulous look. "We have been more than hospitable towards you and your crew. And yet you keep technology that allows you to travel instantaneously from our planet to your ship a secret?"  
  
Archer stared at the floor collecting his thoughts. This was definitely not what he had expected to hear. "I'm sorry, but there must be some sort of misunderstanding…"  
  
"There was no misunderstanding, Captain!" interrupted the angered Vhoorminian. "You purposely withheld this technology from us knowing full well it could have aided Silla in getting to his brother's Cleansing Ceremony. This shows us you have nothing but contempt for our friendship. And here we thought we had met a new friend."  
  
Archer stood and raised his chin in indignation as he responded to the Chancellor's harsh accusation. "It never even occurred to me, Chancellor. You see, we don't usually use the transporter for bio-transport. It's usually used for cargo. I apologize for…"  
  
"Then why did you use it for your own convenience? No! We Vhoorminians will not play flies to your games anymore!"  
  
The remark, and the utter audacity of the Chancellor, angered Archer. A quote from an old Shakespearean play jumped into his head. _ As flies to wanton boys, we are to the gods. They play us for their sport_.  
  
Archer resented the insinuation. He'd had no intention of using the Vhoorminians; he had only wanted to give his crew some time off. Now he was being accused of offering false friendship in return for… for what? "Chancellor, if we were using you, would we not have asked for something in return? All I requested was that my crew be able to enjoy your planet. Nothing more. Which you so graciously agreed to, may I remind you." Archer crossed his arms and waited for an answer.  
  
"It has been brought to my attention that one of your crew members has acquired a matrix compression unit. This is very valuable to us. And I assure you, the Vhoorminian responsible in conducting the trade will be punished severely."  
  
Archer glanced around the bridge. "I was not aware of this transaction, Chancellor," he responded. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned to look at his science officer.  
  
"Captain," interjected T'Pol, rising from her seat. "I was aware of this transaction." She changed her direction to speak to the view screen. "But I was not aware that it was such a valuable commodity." She returned her attention back to the captain. "It's a simple compression unit that assists in the reversion of an electrical power into a usable form to feed the anti-matter stream. Lieutenant Hess traded some vegetable DNA for it, with my permission of course."  
  
Archer bowed his head annoyed, but more ashamed that he hadn't been aware of the transaction. A star ship captain should know everything going on concerning his vessel and crew. But that would have to be dealt with later; there were more pressing matters to attend.  
  
"I'm glad you find our technology so primitive, Sub-Commander!" retorted the Chancellor.  
  
T'Pol stepped around her console to stand beside the captain. "That is not what I meant," she started, but Archer's hand on her arm stopped her from continuing.  
  
"Chancellor, what if we returned this compression unit?" He looked at T'Pol questioningly.   
  
"Lieutenant Hess has already integrated it into the ship's systems," answered T'Pol. But that was not what Archer wanted to hear, and he conveyed as much with his stern glare. "But I'm sure it can be reverted," finished T'Pol.  
  
"That will not be necessary, Captain," came the voice from the view screen. "We do not want the compression unit back; we want you to leave our planet as soon as Silla arrives."  
  
Archer sensed a slight hesitation in the Chancellor's voice, but he wasn't sure what it indicated. He decided to play into what he saw as insecurity. "Perhaps an arrangement can be made?" he asked.  
  
"We will contact you as soon as the true Beholder arrives so we can make the transfer of the amulet. Then we request you leave orbit."  
  
"Chancellor, please hear me out?" pleaded Archer, not wanting to lose another valuable ally; they were so hard to come by. "Maybe we can discuss this a little more. I propose my Sub-Commander and I meet with you face to face, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. I'd hate to loose your friendship."  
  
"I'm sorry. But the damage has already been done. Good-day, Captain."  
  
The view screen went blank for a second then the original view of the planet flashed back on screen. Archer glanced incredulously at his bridge crew. "Hail them. I just can't leave it at this. We've had enough problems making friends out here. I'm not going to let a little misunderstanding get in the way of gaining their trust." He strode across the bridge and up to the communication station to stand beside Hoshi's replacement.  
  
"They're not responding, sir," answered the crewman.  
  
Archer expected as much. He contemplated his options for a moment as his crew awaited his orders. "T'Pol, Malcolm, you're with me. Travis, you have the bridge." He started toward the turbo-lift, the lieutenant and sub-commander hot on his heels.   
  
Inside the lift, T'Pol turned to her captain. "May I inquire as to what you plan to do?"  
  
T'Pol's face did not express any signs of intrigue, but Archer knew her words were about as expressive as a Vulcan's stoicism would allow. She was very good at suppressing her emotions, but Archer had known her long enough that he could sense the underlying tones in her calm voice. "The Chancellor said our people had to leave the planet, right?"  
  
"Correct," responded T'Pol.  
  
"He didn't say anything about us not personally escorting them off," he offered suggestively.  
  
Malcolm hid a smile behind his hand. "And perhaps we will be so lucky as to run into him on the surface?"  
  
"Perhaps," smiled Archer. "We might just bump into the Chancellor while we're searching for our crew members."  
  
T'Pol took an audible breath and straightened her shoulders. "Is this a wise choice of action?"  
  
"I don't consider myself an unwise man, Sub-Commander," Archer replied. "But I'm not letting another first contact go sour. I'm sure we can work this out if he would just agree to talk to us." He paused and leaned back against the wall. "But one thing's for certain; the Chancellor is not getting his hands on our transporter. At first I might have thought about considering it, after all, they aren't that much behind us in certain aspects. They're even ahead in some areas. But now, the transporter is the last thing I'm willing to trade."  
  
"Is that your human pride speaking?" asked T'Pol.  
  
"Maybe so," answered Archer. "But I'm an equal opportunity kind of guy. I let all sides of my humanity speak."  
  
"Human pride aside," interjected Malcolm. "Maybe you're on to something here, captain." He leaned forward to look at T'Pol. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't a society usually follow a certain progression of technological advancement?"  
  
"You are correct," replied T'Pol. "There is usually a certain amount of predictability in assessing a culture's rate of progression."  
  
"And you said the Vhoorminians were behind in some aspects, and ahead in others?" Malcolm asked the captain. Archer nodded, so he continued. "Maybe the Vhoorminian's more progressive technology wasn't so much developed on the planet as much as it was acquired from other races? Perhaps they wanted our transporter, or some other form of technology, from the very beginning?"  
  
"Then why did they just ask us to leave?" replied Archer.  
  
"I'm not sure, Captain," Malcolm stated. "Maybe they're just devious on a whole other level were not familiar with."  
  
"Vulcans are not the only deceitful species out here," said T'Pol, causing Archer to drop his jaw.   
  
Jokes were not common amongst the Vulcan people. To them, stoicism was tantamount in a world of repressed emotion. But then again, _this_ Vulcan had spent more time than any other amongst humans. But joke aside, Malcolm had raised a good point. "It's definitely something to think about," he replied. "But let's not jump to conclusions yet."  
  
The doors to the turbo-lift opened and the three of them disembarked and headed for the shuttle bay at a brisk pace.  
  
On the planet, Archer sent their shuttle pilot to gather the remaining crew, while he, T'Pol and Malcolm headed for the Great Hall. Malcolm, the ever no-nonsense security officer, suggested they bring phase pistols, but Archer did not want to appear hostile. He finally decided that Malcolm would carry one on his belt, and left it at that.  
  
And when they arrived at the Great Hall, Chancellor MiVix was standing by the front door.  
  
~  
  
Chancellor MiVix switched off his view screen with a flick of his wrist and pounded the console before him. He hated the position he was in, but that transporter device would be so beneficial to his people. If only he could get his hands on it, the Vhoorminians would be able to move about their planet a lot faster- they're ground transportation was becoming unreliable and taking to the skies was not an option for them. He also didn't want to see his people slaughtered by the Klingons. And MiVix knew that was a distinct possibility if he didn't contain _Enterprise_ till their arrival.  
  
He glanced around his office taking stock of who was present. The Kaine's Military Cabinet Leader was to his left, shadowed by the Minx and Krolla counterparts. These three leaders would be crucial for what Chancellor MiVix was about to propose, so he began the deliberations.  
  
Awhile later, the Krolla had already given in to the Kaine's suggestion, but they had yet to convince the Minx to end their stalemate. They were still debating the pros and cons an hour later. But eventually, as was custom, they gave in and sided with the Kaine as well.   
  
So it was settled. They would trade something that Captain Archer could not, and would not refuse. They would trade his sub-commander. Now all they had to do was get their hands on her.  
  
Chancellor MiVix ended the deliberation and decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He needed to formulate a plan to apprehend the sub-commander, and the fresh air always helped him think.   
  
On his walk he brought with him the Kaine Military Leader for advice. And to their astonishment, they were rewarded with an easy answer to their problem. The captain was approaching the Great Hall, along with his security officer and his sub-commander. As they neared, MiVix quickly sent the Cabinet Leader back inside for reinforcements- heavily armed. He had no idea what weapons the humans carried, and he wasn't about to take any chances of his plans being ruined. Especially after they had just fallen into his lap.  
  
~  
  
Archer kept his focus on the Chancellor as they approached the Great Hall. He was starting to get a bad feeling, and his intuitions were rarely wrong. So as they neared, he let his eyes scan the area, making sure they hadn't just walked into a trap.  
  
"Ah, Captain. I see you've disobeyed my orders," the Chancellor sneered as they stopped before him.  
  
Just then, Archer saw the doors of the Great Hall swing open and ten armed guards, fully protected in grey armoured suits, came charging out.  
  
"Captain!" warned Malcolm, his hand poised over his phase pistol.  
  
"I'm aware, Lieutenant," stated Archer, signalling with his hand to keep the weapon holstered. "Chancellor, we've come to rectify this disagreement peacefully. There is no need for weapons."  
  
Quickly they were surrounded by the armed guards and Malcolm- his pistol aimed at the ready despite his captain's warning, stood to defend them against any aggression.   
  
Archer hated it when his instincts were right. "Chancellor, I'm sure this can be handled diplomatically," he offered, not taking his eyes off the armed guards. He wished now that he had taken his security officer's advice and brought a phase pistol. Not that it would have done much against ten armed guards, but at least he wouldn't feel so defenceless.   
  
MiVix didn't respond. Instead, he pointed to one of the guards who in turn, rushed forth to seize the sub-commander. Malcolm aimed his pistol and fired a stunning shot at the aggressor. The guard paused for a brief second, then realizing the pistol's minimal effects against his armour; he carried out his order and grabbed the sub-commander.  
  
Defenceless, Archer and Malcolm watched the guards jab a long needle into T'Pol's neck. Then she fell to the ground.  
  
Archer had to hold himself back from lurching forward and ripping the Chancellor's arms off with his bare hands. "Chancellor! I demand you release my crew member now! We've done nothing to deserve this!"  
  
The Chancellor shrugged and offered his apologies. "I'm sorry, Captain. But you must understand, this transporter technology of yours is very appealing to us." He glanced down at the sub-commander sprawled on the ground between his guards. "She will be released unharmed when we have this technology in our possession."  
  
"What have you done to her?!" demanded Archer, clenching his fists in helpless frustration.  
  
"We only injected her with a sleep inducing narcotic. She will be fine if you comply with our demands." His smug grin quickly changed to contempt. "You have till Sacha's true Beholder arrives to make your decision. But if you don't comply with our request, then your friend here dies. And believe me when I say, it won't be pleasant."  
  
Archer turned to his security officer for advice, but Malcolm remained silent- his useless phase pistol trained on the Chancellor himself. A lot of good that will do, thought Archer. If we stun him, the guards will probably kill us all. No. They would have to find another solution. But if they thought he would just hand over their transporter now, then they had another thing coming. _Enterprise_ could get down right ugly when it wanted to.  
  
"You harm one hair on my sub-commander's head, and I swear you will not live to regret it!" Archer threatened in reckless optimism.  
  
"We will contact you when Silla arrives. In the meantime, I suggest you return to your ship." The Chancellor bent down and ripped the communicator from T'Pol's pocket and tossed it at Archer. "There will be no communications."  
  
Archer watched as the guards lifted T'Pol and followed the Chancellor back into the Great Hall. He decided to lay trust in T'Pol's immediate safety. After all, she would be a useless bargaining chip if she were dead.  
  
"Captain," Malcolm said, pulling out his communicator. "Permission to jump to conclusions now?"  
  
Archer nodded, his eyes still trained on the door of the Great Hall. "Jump ahead, Lieutenant. And contact _Enterprise_. Advise them of our situation and tell engineering to start a sensor sweep of the area. See if they can find where they're keeping T'Pol."  
  
Malcolm stepped away and began the transmission. A moment later he replied, "They say they can only detect us and Vhoorminians. They can't find a Vulcan signature anywhere in the vicinity."  
  
Archer expected as much.  
  
  
  
(More to Come)  
  



	6. Part Six

  
  
_**'Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her. But once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.'  
- Voltaire  
  
  
**_**Part Six**_**  
**_   
  
TRIP TUCKER OPENED HIS eyes reluctantly, blinking as his dim surroundings came into focus. Someone had lowered the lights- he could only assume, for his benefit. His body ached and he shivered as the air cooled the sweat his body secreted to compensate for the fever. He cautiously turned over onto his back but was obstructed by another body.  
  
He inhaled deeply before contracting his sore muscles and edging his body slightly to the left- giving him room to manoeuvre. He finally made it over and saw who was in his way. Hoshi had apparently fallen asleep in the chair; leaning over the bed with her head resting in the crook of her arm.   
  
She looked peaceful, if not uncomfortable. Trip winced as he raised his right arm to brush the fallen hair off her face. Her skin felt cool and soft to his touch. Which didn't surprise him, but her presence here did. Feeling sleep beckoning him once again, he moved as gently as he could, trying not to disturb her sleeping form. He draped his arm across her shoulders and fell back asleep to the rhythm of her breathing.  
  
~  
  
When Hoshi realised the commander had actually fallen back asleep, she gently unwrapped herself and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.   
  
The doctor approached and put a hand on her shoulder. "How's the patient doing?" he asked quietly. "I see you're awake now."  
  
"Sorry about that," she replied. "I didn't realize how tired I was."  
  
Phlox waved the apology away. "No harm done. Besides, I like to see this crew get their rest. Has he said anything to you?"  
  
Hoshi stared at the commander, not sure if she should mention his earlier outburst of animosity towards her. Had it been personal, or something she could discuss with the doctor? She decided to discuss. "He did earlier," she began. "And he seemed pretty angry with me."  
  
"Nonsense," gawked Phlox. "The Commander has nothing but respect for you. He considers you a friend."  
  
Hoshi drew in a deep breath. "That's not the impression I was getting from him earlier. He was definitely…" she paused, searching for the right word. "Angry. Although I can't imagine why."  
  
Phlox folded his arms across his chest. "The last time I checked, anger was considered a negative entity."  
  
Hoshi regarded him quizzically.  
  
"That amulet he's wearing is the embodiment of Sacha's negative entities. Perhaps Mr. Tucker is feeding off the anger contained within. I wouldn't take anything he says too seriously right now. I'm sure he's battling many difficult emotions."  
  
~  
  
Archer called a meeting of all the senior officers the minute they returned to the bridge. But the briefing area seemed empty with Trip and T'Pol missing. He was staring at the spot where Trip usually stood when the last officer filed in. Hoshi had left the commander in sick bay, and Archer immediately asked about his condition the moment she arrived.  
  
"He's still the same, sir," responded Hoshi. "He's been asleep most of the time."  
  
Archer nodded and turned his attention to the rest of the crew members. He felt confident about his officers, that together they would find a way out of this predicament. He already had one idea, but he wanted to find out if there were any less drastic options. He began the meeting by going over the recent events that had just transpired, and then opened the floor to suggestions.  
  
"I believe they're keeping the sub-commander in the Great Hall," started Malcolm. "As we know, there's been an energy field erected around its perimeter. That's probably why our scanners couldn't detect her Vulcan signature. It must have gone up the moment they stepped inside."  
  
"I'd like to know how they knew we were coming?" sighed Archer, as he paced the end of the briefing table.  
  
"Lucky, I guess," mused Hoshi. Then she glanced at her captain with a look that stated she hadn't meant to say that aloud.  
  
Archer shook his head. "I don't think the Vhoorminians have gotten this far on dumb luck. They knew we were coming; they were waiting outside the Great Hall when we arrived."  
  
"Actually, Captain," interjected Malcolm. "If I remember correctly, the guards weren't waiting for us. Someone went in to gather them."  
  
Archer levelled his gaze on the security officer. "So you think it was dumb luck?"  
  
"I believe it was more of a coincidence, sir. And they probably put up the energy field in case we tried to transport the sub-commander to _Enterprise_," replied Malcolm.  
  
"That, or they figured we'd retaliate with full force," suggested Archer. "And that's an option I haven't dismissed quite yet. But I'd rather it not come to that. Any other suggestions?"  
  
"Why don't we just give them what they want?" offered Hoshi. Archer threw her a beleaguered look. "I know. I know. Not an option."  
  
"It's not just that, Hoshi," Archer said. "I refuse to be bullied into doing something."  
  
"So how do you propose we rescue the sub-commander, sir?" asked Malcolm, his right hand massaging his chin. "We've been trying to break through their shield, but engineering can't penetrate their rotating polarity."  
  
"Where did this technology come from?" asked Hoshi. "There was no indication their culture had advanced this far in shield technology. And we haven't found any evidence of this weapon Phlox mentioned either."  
  
Archer braced his hands on his hips, brought his pacing to a stop. "There's a lot of inconsistencies throughout their technology. And I think Malcolm was right when he suggested earlier that the Vhoorminians have been acquiring technology through unconventional means." He glanced from face to face around the table. "But let's stay on the topic at hand. I suggest we break the sub-commander out."  
  
"How do you propose we do that?" asked an eager Malcolm.  
  
Archer drew in a deep breath. "I'll try and arrange to have the passing of the amulet take place in the Great Hall," he started, knowing that his plan was not altogether foolproof. "And when they drop the shields to let us in, we'll sneak in a security team." Archer smiled at his security officer. "I'll leave that part up to you."  
  
Malcolm grinned. "That's leaving a lot to assumption, but I'll have a team ready on your go, Captain."  
  
"I knew you would, Malcolm," replied Archer.  
  
"But I would be remiss if I didn't mention there's still the matter of time, sir," added Malcolm. "Silla's arrival is not imminent, and the Chancellor will be waiting for your response concerning the transporter. Unless of course, he wants to kill two birds with one stone and do it at the same time?"  
  
"I have this sneaking suspicion he's trying to obtain our transporter under the table," replied Archer. "To vote on something this big would take decades. And the Chancellor doesn't have that much time. I'm pretty confident we'll be doing this in two separate transactions, so we'll just have to stall. But only with the transporter situation. I won't have Trip suffering any longer than he has too. Although, I don't like the situation I'm leaving T'Pol in either. Now let's get to work. I want a rescue proposal in two hours, Mr. Reed." With that, Archer ended the meeting.  
  
~  
  
Immediately after it ended, Hoshi returned to sick bay. She knew doctor Phlox had other duties to attend, and leaving the commander in the hands of another crewman was not boding well with her. Especially since the crewman was not familiar with the commander on a personable level. Hoshi hated to think of Trip waking up to an unfamiliar crewman who could only relate to him as a ranking officer. The commander did not need protocol, he needed compassion.  
  
When she stepped into sickbay the lights were still dim, so she assumed the commander was still sleeping. So it came as a surprise when the diagnostic bed was empty and the babysitting crewman was sitting across the room reading a PADD. "Where is the Commander?" she asked, startling the crewman.  
  
"I didn't hear you come in, Ensign," he sputtered. "He's in there," he said, pointing to the washroom. "He's been in there awhile too."  
  
Hoshi shook her head, then headed for the washroom and knocked gently on the door. There was no response, so she tried again. When there was still no response, she opened the door and walked in. She immediately found the commander sitting on the floor, his head in his hands.  
  
She rushed to his side. "Commander? Are you all right?" She bent down beside him and noticed he was shirtless. She reached over to nudge his shoulder and felt the dampness of his bare skin. "Let's get you back to bed, sir," she said. Then she looked into his eyes and noticed how vacant they were.  
  
"I can't move, Hoshi," he replied, his words soft and slow. "I can't… I feel so alone…" He squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
"I'll help you," she offered, reaching for his hand. "Come on. You'll be much more comfortable in there." She squeezed his hand and urged him upward. His normally strong hand felt weak and fragile compared to hers. Hoshi wanted to rip the amulet from off his neck and throw it out the nearest airlock.  
  
She noticed Trip was starting to struggle to get up, so she put his arm around her shoulders and threw her own arm around his waist for support. Then she escorted him back into the main room where she noticed the crewman had left, and in his place now stood the captain.  
  
Archer helped Hoshi put Trip back to bed, despite the commander's feeble attempts to push them away. He kept complaining that he was too hot under the blanket, so they gave in and let it rest on his waist.  
  
"I see he's in good hands," mused Archer. "But do you think we should call the doctor back?"  
  
"I don't think there's anything he can do for him," replied Hoshi. She stared down at the form on the diagnostic bed and pulled her shoulders back- demonstrating a strong front for her captain.   
  
"It's hard when someone we care for is sick and there's nothing we can do," stated Archer in a kind voice. Hoshi looked up at him in surprise. "You're body language betrays you, Hoshi. I can see your concern right through your brave front."  
  
""It's just frustrating," she sighed.   
  
"I know," nodded Archer. "And as much as I'd like to be the one by his side right now, I have duties I can't ignore. But I'm glad you're staying with him. And now that I know he's in your good hands, I should get back to work."  
  
Hoshi bid good-bye to the captain and re-took her vigil in the empty seat beside the bed.  
  
"Is he gone?" muttered Trip, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.  
  
"Yes, he's gone," she smiled. But her mind raced, trying to remember everything she had just said. If he had been awake this whole time, he would have heard her every word.  
  
"Good," replied Trip, meeting her gaze. "I can't stand him seeing me like this."  
  
"What about me? Don't you care how I see you?" teased Hoshi.  
  
"Not really."  
  
Hoshi saw what looked like a smile spread across his dry lips. She smiled back and watched him cross his arms over his chest shivering. She leaned down and retrieved the covers and tucked him in.  
  
Trip grabbed her hand and held it for a moment. "Thank-you," was all he said.  
  
"For what? I'm not doing anything any other language loving isolationist wouldn't do," she teased again.  
  
Trip shifted, embarrassment evident on his face. "I didn't mean that you know," he offered. "I was in such a bad mood. My head was pounding… I wanted to throw up…"  
  
"I understand, it's okay. I've already forgotten." She brushed the hair off his face gently. But if you ever accuse me of that again I'll have to kill you, sir."  
  
"Deal."  
  
"Good. Now be quiet and go to sleep."  
  
~  
  
The sub-commander lay motionless on the cot. Her body was being imprisoned, but her mind was not. T'Pol had slipped quietly into meditation after the sedative have worn off, and now she was standing on the red sands of Vulcan. In the sky above were the two familiar moons of her home world. And beside her was her conscience. It spoke to her during her meditations, helping her calm her emotions and focus her mental discipline.  
_  
"You have been patient."_  
  
"I have. But I question my discipline."  
  
_ "You must not lose your patience. It is through patience that you learn tolerance. And tolerance is the foundation of acceptance."_  
  
T'Pol contemplated the words. "But I do accept. I accept many things."  
  
_ "Indeed. You can even accept things that do not exist. A thought is not tangible, but yet it exists. But can you create something that does not truly exist?"_  
  
The words refused to make sense to T'Pol. "If you create something that does not exist, does it not then exist?"  
  
_ "Not true. And that is the challenge you must…"_  
  
Suddenly T'Pol was jolted from her meditation; her unconscious voice cut short by a hand shaking her awake. She opened her eyes slowly to find she was no longer on the bed, but rather, race down on the floor staring at two pairs of boots. T'Pol braced her hands by her shoulders and hoisted herself to her knees. Then she felt two arms hook under her shoulders and urge her upwards to a standing position.  
  
"I trust you slept well?" asked a voice across the small, desolate chamber.   
  
T'Pol shook her head not quite awake. "Who are you? Where am I? I demand to be returned to my ship."  
  
"Sub-Commander, we mean you no harm," assured the voice. "If you cooperate we may even return you to your ship early."  
  
T'Pol's eyes began to focus. She could now see the familiar voice belonged to Chancellor MiVix. And there were two guards on either side of him- each wearing the same armour that was impervious to Malcolm's phase pistol. "Chancellor MiVix. What do you expect to accomplish by holding me against my will?"  
  
The Chancellor folded his arms under his robe and crossed the floor. He sat down on the only piece of furniture in the room; a six-by-four protrusion jutting out from the far wall. "We hope to trade you for your wonderful transporter technology. Unless, of course, you would care to tell us how it works yourself?" The Chancellor looked hopeful as T'Pol stood firm and determined.  
  
"No," she replied simply. "And I can assure you, my captain won't either."  
  
"Does your captain not cherish your life, sub-commander?" patronized the Chancellor. "What a pity."  
  
"Captain Archer cherishes all life. But I assure you once again, he will not hand over any information concerning their transporter." T'Pol stepped closer to the Chancellor. "You might as well release me, or kill me now."  
  
The Chancellor stood, coming face to face with his prisoner. "I think we'll keep you for awhile." Then he turned to the two guards. "If she tries to escape, kill her. And by the way, Sub-Commander, trying to escape would not be wise. You are several miles underground. And there is a force field disrupting any chances of being transported out."  
  
The guards backed up to the door and stood at each side with their rifles poised. The Chancellor turned abruptly away from T'Pol and marched out the door.   
  
T'Pol wanted to trust the crew of _Enterprise_ for help, but logic dictated that was almost impossible. If she couldn't find a way out, how were they supposed to be able to find a way in? So T'Pol began pacing, trying to make observations that might help her situation.   
  
The cell was approximately ten feet by ten feet with no windows and one door. She realized that if she was going to escape, it would have to be through the same door the Chancellor had used. Unfortunately, two guards were hindering any possibility of just walking through it.  
  
T'Pol changed the direction of her pacing so she was now walking toward and away from the guards- staring at the floor so the guards wouldn't see what she was really doing. She was not only testing how close she could get to the door before the guards felt threatened, but also making a reconnaissance of the weapons.  
  
The Vhoorminians had been so gracious during first contact, that she found the intimidation level of the guards now quite fascinating. The weapons they carried appeared to be some sort of primitive automatic projectile disruptors. She had no idea what damage each projectile could do to Vulcan flesh and organs, and she had no desire to find out either.   
  
She had only been able to get within a few steps of the door before the guards had felt compromised. It wasn't enough to make a quick dash, but possibly something to work with. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her meditation. _"Can you make something that does not truly exist?"_  
  
The theoretics of the statement confused T'Pol. She could not understand how something could exist, yet simultaneously not exist. Then it hit her.   
  
Now all she had to do was convey this knowledge to her captain.  
  
~  
  
Archer was in his ready room nursing a steaming cup of coffee when his door chimed. Lieutenant Reed entered a moment later with a PADD and passed it to him immediately. "Thank-you, Lieutenant." Archer nodded to the empty seat across from his desk. He tried hard not to think of who usually sat there- especially in times when he needed advice.   
  
"Thank-you is not required," replied Malcolm, taking the seat. "Just fulfilling my duties."  
  
Archer smiled. After all this time, Malcolm was still the ever persistent by-the-book officer he had been when he first arrived. Archer had hoped by now he would have relaxed some, and in some aspects he had. But not quite enough for Archer's liking. He read over the proposal. It was short, thorough, precise and left little to the imagination.  
  
It simply lacked the sensationalism usually attributed to such reports. It almost seemed boring, but Archer took comfort in that. Boring on paper could mean boring in reality. Archer actually started to appreciate his security officer's lack of drama. It was easing his tension. He looked up from the PADD with a smile. "Don't ever change, Malcolm," he said wryly.  
  
"Excuse me, sir?"  
  
Archer waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. So, do you think this will work?"  
  
"That's impossible to answer, sir," replied Malcolm, blowing out a strong puff of air. "But I like to think my men are up to the challenge."  
  
Archer didn't like the answer. "Do you think there is a _good_ chance of this working?"  
  
"I believe, taking into account our options, that there is a good chance this will work."  
  
Archer nodded and placed the PADD off to one side. There was something else on Malcolm's mind- he could see it in the security officer's uncomfortable composure. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"All due respect, sir. As much as I like the thinking behind your strategy, I think there's another option." He paused, waiting for his captain's approval to continue. "It seems the Vhoorminians put faith in trade. So I propose we trade something of greater value than our transporter technology."  
  
Archer wasn't sure what Malcolm was getting at, and he looked back at him suspiciously. "If I'm not willing to trade our transporter, I'm certainly not going to trade any greater piece of technology."  
  
Malcolm leaned forward in his seat. "I'm not suggesting we trade something of greater value to us," he started, peaking Archer's interest. "I'm suggesting we trade something of greater value to the Vhoorminians. It seems they put a lot of emphasis on that amulet the commander is holding. Perhaps they want it more than our transporter?"  
  
Archer sat back, drummed his fingers on his desk top and regarded him thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I've thought about it," he sighed. "But I will only consider it as a final option. Trip and Sacha are innocent pawns in this situation. And I'd rather keep them out of it for now. But if it comes down to the wire, I'll reconsider the option. For now, I think we should stick to plan A."  
  
Malcolm nodded and stood to leave.  
  
"I want your team at the ready, Malcolm," stated Archer. "And break out the big guns, our phase pistols don't seem to be doing the trick."  
  
~  
  
After meeting with his security officer, Archer decided to get a personal update from engineering. He entered main engineering, and momentarily forgetting his friend's whereabouts, began searching for Trip. After a moment he sighed and resigned to speaking with one of the lieutenants. He found Hess working by Trip's desk, so he approached. "What's the status of the weapons; surface-to-orbit specifically?"  
  
Lieutenant Hess jumped to attention. "It's all in the reports, sir," she answered. "Would you like me to bring them up on the computer?"  
  
"Just sum it up for me, Lieutenant," replied Archer. He was in no mood to go rifling through endless reports when she could easily tell him what he needed to know in a few short sentences.  
  
"Per protocol with first contacts, we did an extensive high resonance scan of the planet on arrival. But we didn't come up with anything substantial."  
  
"But we know the weapon exists.," stated Archer. "Doctor Phlox said they had extremely powerful surface-to-orbit weapons."  
  
"We haven't been able to find them, sir." Hess paused and directed the captain to a nearby monitor. She brought up the schematics of the planet and pointed to a pattern of crisscrossing lines approximately three miles beneath the planet's surface. "But we did learn something else. After several surface scans, we started digging deeper and detected some sort of barrier matrix that surrounds the entire interior of the planet. But our scanners can't penetrate it, and we can only assume their defence systems are located underneath." She paused and scratched her head. "They have sophisticated shields, sir. It's strange that their sensors are so prehistoric."  
  
Archer ignored the last statement and leaned close to the monitor. "Do you think our weapons could penetrate their interior shield?"  
  
"Most likely," offered Hess. "But first we'd have to blast through several miles of sheer rock. And that could be a problem- time wise."  
  
Archer thinned his lips. "I bet they keep their cells underneath that interior shield. And that's probably where they're keeping the sub-commander." He stood back up and folded his arms across his chest. "Any luck penetrating the external shield around the Great Hall? Scans would be very beneficial right now."  
  
"We can't scan through it, sir," replied Hess. "Every time we match it's frequency it changes. But on a good note, we can transport through it. They both use modulated frequencies, so it doesn't present a problem."  
  
Archer dropped his head. "That's a definite step in the right direction," he said. "But we can't exactly do a blind transport. We need them to drop the external energy field."  
  
"We need them to drop the _internal_ energy field," replied Hess. "Then we could get a better understanding of the weapon, if it is indeed located beneath."  
  
Archer nodded, also seeing further implications. With the internal shield down, they would also be able to get to T'Pol. "So all we know is that they have a significant weapon, but we have no idea what kind of effect it'll have on _Enterprise_."  
  
"Well, it'll either do little to no damage, or blow us to bits," replied Hess.  
  
Archer did not appreciate her nonsubtle realism. "Let's assume the worst and boost all reserve power to the lower hull."  
  
~  
  
The sounds of an alien language woke Trip from his restless sleep. Hair dishevelled and face unshaven, he pushed the blankets off his chest and slowly sat up. Across sickbay, and sitting with her back to him, Hoshi was practicing a new tongue. Then the room started to spin and his stomach suddenly lurched. With a renewed sense of urgency, Trip slid off the bed and stumbled into the washroom.  
  
He could hear the linguist's concerned voice through the door, but it was masked by the sounds coming from his own stomach and throat- they were trying to regurgitate what simply wasn't there. His throat burned from the acids that came up instead, and he could taste the sickly metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He spit it out into the sink and slumped back against the wall; groaning and clutching his stomach.  
  
Hoshi must have heard him thump against the wall, because the next thing Trip knew, he was being helped back into bed. He lay supine, but his stomach and lungs felt like were on fire. He could hear Hoshi in the background, but couldn't make out what she was saying. All Trip cared about was trying to put out the fire inside him. The pain was intense, and no position he lay in eased it in any way.   
  
He finally rolled onto his side and tucked his legs up to his chest, but it was no use. The pain would not subside. "Damn," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Make it stop."  
  
~  
  
Hoshi didn't know what to do. She was in a panic. The commander was in pain, and she could do nothing to stop it. But the doctor could. She ran to the wall and accessed the ship's intercom. "Sickbay to Doctor Phlox. We have a medical emergency."  
  
She heard the Denobulan respond, and a few seconds later the doors to sickbay whooshed open. But it wasn't the doctor. It was the captain. He quickly came to stand beside her over the diagnostic bed. "What happened? I was just on my way here when I heard you call for the doctor."  
  
Hoshi shrugged in distress as she laid comforting hands of the writhing commander. "He was asleep… then he just woke up." She pointed over her shoulder to the washroom, her mind begging silently for the doctor to hurry. "He was in there… and I helped him back to bed. He's in a lot of pain, sir." With her last words, Hoshi was able to catch her breath and steady her voice.  
  
She watched as Archer tried to make sense of the diagnostic readouts, but like her, he was no doctor either. And Trip, on the bed, was still curled in a ball and now unresponsive to her verbal coaxing. It wasn't until the doctor arrived that the situation in sickbay changed.  
  
Phlox walked in, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it quickly and went straight to the commander. Hoshi did not have to explain anything. The doctor quickly read the monitors, grabbed some hyposprays and injected the commander. Then he turned to address the other occupants of his sickbay. "How long ago did this start?" he asked, taking a manual radial pulse.  
  
Hoshi ran her hands through her hair, forgetting it was pulled back in a ponytail. Her fingers got caught, and she ripped the elastic out in frustration. "Maybe a minute before I contacted you. Before that, he was just sleeping peacefully."  
  
The doctor made a noise with his throat, but didn't speak. He moved about the room gathering diagnostic equipment, then returned to the bed.  
  
"How is he, doc?" asked Archer.  
  
"He's suffering from an electrolyte imbalance," replied Phlox, loading another hypospray and pressing it against the neck of the commander. "His potassium and magnesium levels were dangerously low."  
  
Hoshi's eyes fell to the commander's chest where the overhead lights gleamed off the silver sunburst. "Did the amulet cause this?"  
  
Phlox adjusted the settings on his patient's monitor and spoke to her over his shoulder. "I'd say it was more of an effect, or side-effect to be more precise. The imbalance was due to more coming out of the commander than going in." He paused his work and turned to face them. "He needs to eat. Replenish what he's losing. It's that, or I'll have to try a more invasive procedure such as a feeding tube."  
  
Hoshi glanced down at Trip. He was staring at the ceiling- his eyes open and unfocused. His skin was pale and dry. It hadn't taken long for the effects of the amulet to turn a strong, vibrant man into fragile, vulnerable shell. Hoshi couldn't believe Trip wanted to endure this. He had asked the captain to let him endure this. For what? Hoshi asked. For friendship? For loyalty to a man he barely knew?   
  
Hoshi was beginning to think she barely knew the man before her.   
  
"You can treat the electrolyte imbalance, right?" asked Archer, breaking Hoshi from her internal dialogue.  
  
"Yes. This I can treat. It's something tangible," replied Phlox.  
  
"So this is good then?" rushed Hoshi, seeing a dim light at the end of Trip's tunnel.  
  
Phlox raised a finger to emphasize his point. "Not exactly," he said. "I can only cure the effects caused by the effects of the amulet. The amulet's direct effects still don't physically exist."  
  
Archer hung his head, drew in a deep breath. "All I wanted to do was give my crew some shore leave," he began, sharing a quick glance with Hoshi before he continued. "And now my chief engineer is dangerously sick and my sub-commander is being held for ransom. All in all, I'm beginning to think shore leave is much more precarious than first contacts. And our track record with them hasn't been great either."  
  
Hoshi put a hand on her captain's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Captain. No one knew any of this was going to happen. We all went into this with good expectations."  
  
"Maybe so, Hoshi," replied Archer. "But I'm beginning to think there should be some sort of rule book governing these types of things. We're coming across too many surprises with each new species we meet out here."  
  
~  
  
After Hoshi and the captain had left, Phlox decided to stay by the bed and monitor his patient closely for the next little while. He watched the commander's vital signs fluctuate mildly, but it was his chemical imbalance that was disturbing the doctor. He had seen a quick improvement after the injections, but they still weren't within normal parameters.   
  
"How are you feeling, Commander?" he asked, smiling down at his patient. Trip was supine now, his head slightly elevated on the bed. But he hadn't spoken yet, and that was even more cause for concern.   
  
With what looked like a painful swallow, Trip closed his eyes briefly then met the doctor's gaze. "Been better."  
  
"Would you like to try and eat something? It might help," suggested Phlox, already heading for small kitchen in the back room of sickbay. Not everyone was lucky enough to have their own personal kitchen, but Phlox had been allotted one in order to feed his patients. But it didn't contain the normal selection of foods- these were specially designed for patients on restricted diets. These foods were reserved for patients like Trip Tucker.  
  
He returned to the bed with a protein pack and began pouring it into a cup. The liquid was thick and viscous and extremely unappealing for those it was intended for. "We'll try a little at first and see how that goes," he suggested, offering the half filled cup.  
  
But Trip pushed it away. Phlox tried again, but was met with the same resistance. "Please, Commander. It's for your own good," he pleaded, holding the cup close to his patient's mouth.  
  
Trip rolled away, throwing his left arm out and knocking the cup out of the doctor's hands. "I don't want it! Go away."  
  
Phlox began cleaning the mess, thankful that he was a patient man. "I understand your reluctance to eat this, but I assure you, it's better than the alternative," he said, rising to face the commander.  
  
"Get the hell away from me!" yelled Trip, in a surprising burst of energy. Then he tried to roll off the bed. But Phlox was able to retain him, due to his weakness.  
  
"Commander, please, try and relax," he soothed. But it was getting him nowhere. Phlox could see anger in the commander's eyes- a rage wanting to burst forth without a capable avenue of escape. Rage, like all emotions, came from within. But the rage in Trip right now was stemming from something else entirely. It was coming from the amulet. Trip was succumbing to the negative entities which it held. "I empathize with what…"   
  
"Leave me the hell alone! Save your pedantic, moral speeches for your animals!" Trip threw himself onto his side and buried his head under his left arm.   
  
The words stung. And Phlox could not help but feel that although Trip was suffering the effects of the amulet, there had to be some source of truth in the words he chose. It was hard to hear what someone really thought of you, and it hurt worse when it came from someone you were trying to help. But nonetheless, Phlox still considered the commander a friend- despite what he might say in delusional anger. After all, Phlox could think of a few character quirks of the commanders that he found irritating as well.  
  
But he made a mental note to himself to try and refrain from long winded speeches- at least, in the commander's presence, and reached for a hypospray. He found the soft tissue of Trip's neck and injected another sedative. Phlox would give him an hour, and then try again. After that, it would be the feeding tube.  
  
  
  
(More to Come)   
  



	7. Part Seven

_**  
  
'When NASA first started sending up astronauts, they quickly discovered that ball point pens would not work in micro gravity. To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and 12 billion dollars developing a pen that writes in; micro gravity, upside down, under water, on almost any surface including glass and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300C. The Russians used a pencil.'  
- Unknown  
  
  
**_**Part Seven**_**  
**_   
  
T'POL HAD HEARD OF a practice on Earth called astral-projection. It was a rare practice, and usually frowned upon by the scientific community. But for a Vulcan Science Officer, it had been worth further analysis. Astral-projection required extreme mental discipline; of which the Vulcan mind was highly capable of achieving. And although T'Pol had informed her superiors of this Earth practice, they too had shunned the idea.  
  
T'Pol had not. She had continued her earlier studies based on pure interest alone. But she had neither practiced it, nor considered practicing it till now. Not one to sit idle in the face of adversity- or imprisonment, T'Pol decided it was the only way she could contact _Enterprise_.   
  
But of course, the practice required the projector to have a specific destination. One could not travel through space, merely to a specific point in space. T'Pol contemplated her options. Captain Archer was the obvious choice, but his whereabouts were unpredictable. At any given time, he could be in any given place. Ensign Sato was also an option. If anyone on board_ Enterprise_ could accept astral-projection, T'Pol felt it would be the communications officer. But again, her location could not be specifically determined.  
  
In fact, no one's position could be predicted to the level required for projection. And since the practice required the visited person to act as an anchor pulling the projectionist to them, an empty room would not suffice. No. T'Pol needed a person.  
  
Commander Tucker.  
  
T'Pol lay back on the bed the moment the name popped into her head. The commander would be in sickbay; she was sure of it. She closed her eyes and relaxed her body as she fell into a meditative state. She pictured sickbay in her mind- every corner, every detail. Then she added Commander Tucker to the picture, lying quietly on the bio-bed where she had last seen him.  
  
She felt her body grow heavy, like it was sinking into the hard mattress upon which she lay. The she realized she was longer in her body, but floating above it. She could see the two guards standing by the door, oblivious to what was happening before them. She felt free. She felt unattached. Then she felt a sharp tug, like a rope tied around her waist and pulling her across space and time.  
  
~  
  
Trip Tucker folded his arms over his face; he wanted to shrink away into nothingness. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He felt empty and depleted of anything good he had ever experienced. He felt misdirected anger. He felt sadness beyond anything a human should endure. He felt a hole inside him that could not be filled. And it was like all these negative feelings were feeding off each other, battling for control of his mind and body and leaving in their wake nausea and pain.  
  
But the pain he had been feeling before was incomparable to the pain he felt now. For now it was not just confined to his physical well being, it had penetrated deeper into his mind and heart. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears he did not want to let fall. Then he heard a voice- distant, yet familiar.  
  
"Commander, you must wake up," said the voice again.  
  
"Doc?" he mumbled. But he knew the voice had not belonged to the Denobulan. The voice was soft and sounded more like… "T'Pol?" He lowered his arms from his face and opened his eyes. Sub-Commander T'Pol was standing beside the bed. Trip blinked, tried to focus. T'Pol seemed almost translucent, if not truly there. "T'Pol, I can barely see you," he said with a hoarse voice.  
  
"You must listen to me, Commander," stated T'Pol.  
  
Trip reached out a hand to touch her, but his fingers passed right through her. "You're barely there…"  
  
"I don't have much time, Commander. You must relay a message to the Captain," started T'Pol. But Trip just stared through her, not sure is she was just a dream. "You must build something that does not exist."  
  
Trip furrowed his brow, let his eyes close briefly. "What? How?"  
  
"The transporter," urged T'Pol. "Give them the transporter. Give them what they think they're getting."  
  
Trip let his tongue roll across his lips as he stared up at her. She wasn't making any sense. But then, the last two days were like a blur to him, he could barely remember anything past the pain and depression. "Transporter?" he finally asked, unable to form a full sentence.  
  
"Yes," replied T'Pol, her voice insistent. "You must tell the Captain to construct a transporter that does nothing. Let the Vhoorminians think they are getting what they want."  
  
The sub-commander's words meant nothing to him, but he could tell by the intensity of her voice they were significant. He nodded back his understanding, unable to find his voice. A persistent urge to sleep overcame him and he struggled to stay awake. He nodded again and hoped the sub-commander wouldn't be offended as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
~  
  
T'Pol arched a single eyebrow and tilted her head. Had the commander heard her? Had he understood? Because now it was all up to him.   
  
She could not say Trip Tucker was the last person she would trust- he had proven his reliance long ago and on many occasions. It was his current state that gave T'Pol cause for concern. Was he even capable of understanding?  
  
She looked at him, letting her eyes follow the muscular contours of his legs up to his chest, only to have her eyes rest on his pallid face. His cheeks were sunken, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. Beads of sweat dotted is forehead, and a slight grimace was etched on his sleeping face. The effects the amulet was having on the commander could not go unnoticed, and T'Pol had to commend him for his loyalty and endurance through all this.   
  
Then she felt a tug from behind; the rope was pulling her again. T'Pol had momentarily let her mental discipline drop and her body was calling her back to her prison. She woke up back in her cell where the two guards still stood by the door. She swung her legs to the floor and began to rise. But this caused a reaction from the guards T'Pol had not expected. One aimed his rifle directly at her chest while the other spun away and raced out the door.  
  
~  
  
Chancellor MiVix was alone in his office when his door burst open. Roulla barged in, excited and out of breath. "Chancellor," she huffed. "Silla is here to see you. Shall I send him in?"  
  
The Chancellor bolted upright. "Yes, right away," he urged. The woman stepped aside and motioned for Silla to enter. The Chancellor circled his desk with arms open to embrace the Beholder. "Silla, it is so nice to see you again. I'm only sorry it isn't under better circumstances."  
  
"Yes, Chancellor," nodded Silla. "If only the situation were a happy one. I trust you are doing well?"  
  
The Chancellor looked at the floor and sighed. "I've been better. We are experiencing some diplomatic problems, but nothing we can not handle. Now, I'm sure you are eager to get on with the transfer of the amulet."  
  
"Yes, I would like to see my brother's amulet put to rest," conceded Silla. "Where will the transfer take place?"  
  
"First I must make arrangements with the Spiritual Sender and with the honorary Beholder. You understand?" The Chancellor smiled. "I don't want to bother you with the details, so why don't you freshen up and get something to eat. I'm sure your trip was long and exhausting. I'll take care of all the arrangements."  
  
Shortly after Silla's dismissal, the Chancellor was walking through the tunnels under the Great Hall. The sub-commander's cell was just down the hall, and he was eager to question her one last time before contacting the captain. He approached the door and nodded to the guards- causing them to jump to attention. They quickly acknowledged the Chancellor's presence as he approached his prisoner's sleeping form. "Sub-Commander," he said as sternly as possible without yelling.  
  
The prisoner's body did not so much as flinch. The Chancellor called her again, this time nudging her shoulder. The body was limp, and her arm fell off her chest to dangle off the side of the bed. The Chancellor jumped back. He spun and started at the guards. "What has happened to the prisoner?!"  
  
The two guards looked at each other and shrugged. They inched forward for a better look while the Chancellor tried waking the prisoner again. There was still no response from the sub-commander. The Chancellor's eyes went wide as he stared at what he thought was a dead prisoner. He could feel himself start to tremble.   
  
He swallowed hard and backed toward the door. "No one is to find out about this," he threatened. "No one!" He spun around and ran down the hall.  
  
~  
  
Captain Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head as far as he could reach- every muscle straining to its maximum elongated form. It felt good, and he allowed himself the brief pleasure before diving back into his work. Engineering had gotten nowhere with locating the Vhoorminians weapon, and they were still having difficulties penetrating their internal energy field.  
  
"Bridge to the Captain."  
  
Archer replied to the hail and was told there was an incoming transmission from the planet. It was the Chancellor. "Transfer it to my ready room," Archer stated. Then the image of the Vhoorminian appeared on his screen. He seemed irritable to Archer. Like a man with too much pent up energy. The Chancellor kept fidgeting and would not meet Archer's gaze.  
  
"Greetings, Captain Archer," said the Chancellor. "Silla has arrived and we are ready for the transfer of the amulet. We will be waiting for you outside the Great Hall."  
  
Archer stared blankly at the screen. It was close, but not close enough. He raised an eyebrow and replied with carefully chosen words. "I suggest we make the transaction indoors," he said. "I'm afraid the commander has taken ill, and he won't be able to withstand too much commotion. He would prefer a more solitude atmosphere. Or perhaps we can have it sent directly to you in the Hall?"  
  
"We will clear the steps than," replied the Chancellor, his body stiffening. "And the amulet must not be removed from your Commander's neck! He must be wearing it up until the Spiritual Sender removes it himself and puts it on the rightful Beholder."  
  
Archer dropped his head but did not avert his eyes. He leaned in closer to the monitor to make his presence more threatening. "Other arrangements will have to be made."   
  
"There will be no other arrangements," stammered the nervous Vhoorminian. "We shall meet in one hour at the arranged coordinates." Archer watched as the Chancellor's demeanour suddenly changed. "And I'm sorry to hear about your Commander's illness. I hope it is not as serious as Sacha's," he added, before abruptly ending the transmission.  
  
Archer stared disgusted at the blank view screen. How dare he wish for Trip's well being when he was holding his sub-commander prisoner! Archer wanted to smash the monitor, but he knew that would not accomplish anything. And the notion of moving Trip was not boding well with him either. The last time he'd seen him, Trip had been so weak and helpless it took all of Archer's willpower not to yank the amulet from his neck and shove it down the Chancellor's throat.   
  
And he didn't even want to think about how he was going to convince the doctor to release Trip. But it was now or never, so after a deep breath, Archer informed Malcolm that a contingency plan was going to have to be made. And then he left his ready room and headed for sickbay.  
  
He saw Phlox next to the diagnostic bed and made his way over. "Doctor, the Chancellor has informed me that Trip must be present at the transfer. We can't just take the amulet down to the planet."  
  
"I see," replied Phlox. "And I guess it doesn't matter what my opinion is concerning this matter?"  
  
Archer ran a hand down his face. He didn't want to move Trip any more than Phlox did, but as he saw it, there was no other choice. "I'm sorry, Doctor. Will that be a problem?"   
  
Phlox thinned his lips and raised his brows. "It is against my advice. But I get the impression you will go against it no matter what I say, so I will prepare him for transport."  
  
"T'Pol," mumbled Trip from the bed.   
  
Archer looked at him, unaware that he was conscious. "Trip," he said softly. "T'Pol's not here." He shared a look with the doctor who just shrugged back.  
  
"Yeah, she's gone… she had to go," struggled Trip.  
  
"He must be still experiencing the effects of the last sedative I gave him," offered Phlox. "He had an outburst earlier- albeit, a subdued outburst."  
  
"Is he all right?" asked Archer. The doctor nodded, and Archer looked back at Trip. He was reaching toward him, feeling his uniform between his fingers. Then Trip suddenly grabbed his arm.  
  
"Captain, I can feel you," he announced, waning quizzical looks from both Archer and Phlox.  
  
Archer put his hand over the commanders. "Of course, Trip. I'm right here."  
  
"T'Pol… I couldn't feel her," smiled Trip. Then he rolled his head away. "I must have been dreaming… Just like Hoshi."  
  
"You had a dream about T'Pol… And Hoshi?" asked Archer, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  
  
"Must have been a dream. Hoshi was here," drawled Trip. "But not with T'Pol… Different..."  
  
Archer was going to leave it at that, but Trip's next comment intrigued him. Trip mentioned that in one dream, T'Pol had given him a message to pass onto him. Archer leaned closer to Trip, barely able to hear his soft words. He put his hand on his friend's chest and a sudden wave of nausea overcame him. He felt dizzy and his face went flush.  
  
The doctor quickly pushed Archer's hand of Trip's chest. "What happened?" stuttered Archer, feeling the blood returning to his face.  
  
"You put your hand on the amulet, Captain," replied Phlox. "I suggest you don't do that again unless you want to be as sick as Mr. Tucker here."  
  
Archer nodded and rested his hand on the side of the bed instead. "Trip," he started. "What did T'Pol tell you?"  
  
Trip furrowed his brow, looked back at him with a confused expression. "She said give them the transporter."  
  
Archer stepped back from the bed. He couldn't have heard that right. T'Pol would never tell him to give up the transporter. But then, it had been a dream. Trip was just rambling. The sedative was still in his system, right? But how did he know about the transporter? He looked at the doctor with a sense of urgency. "Has anyone told Trip about out transporter situation?  
  
"I don't believe so, Captain," answered Phlox. "But I wasn't here the whole time. I did have other duties to attend to outside sickbay."  
  
Archer was confused. "Trip, how do you know about the transporter?"  
  
"T'Pol…"  
  
"When?"  
  
"Earlier," answered Trip.  
  
Archer was really confused now. There was no way the sub-commander was in sickbay recently, yet there was no way Trip could know about the transporter either. "Trip, do you know why T'Pol said to give the Vhoorminians the transporter?"  
  
"No… no," replied Trip, waving a feeble hand. "She said, she said… I can't remember."  
  
"Try, Trip. This could be important," urged Archer, trying not to express his frustration. He could see the commander was struggling to contain himself, and was beginning to drift off.  
  
"She said build a transporter to do nothing," Trip finally replied. "Make them think they're get'n what they want…" His words trailed off.  
  
Archer watched him grimace in pain, but it soon resided and his facial muscles relaxed once again. Archer stared down at him, letting the implications of what Trip had just said run through his mind. T'Pol wanted them to fake it! Fake a transporter to satisfy the Vhoorminians. It was brilliant. Archer wanted to run to engineering and have them start on it right away, but first, there had been a reason for his visit to sickbay.  
  
"Trip," he said. "You've been very helpful, but I've got some good news for you. Silla has arrived, and against the better judgement of me and the doctor, we're going to transport you down to the planet to make the transfer. Of course, Malcolm and I will be accompanying you. But if anything goes wrong, anything at all concerning your health or with the transfer itself, I will not hesitate to send you back here- transfer or no transfer. Understood?"  
  
~  
  
Trip nodded, not believing his ears. He was beginning to think Silla would never arrive. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to be well anymore. He was so sick, he imagined feeling well being no different than feeling ill.  
  
But Trip was finally going to get rid of Sacha's amulet. He kept repeating that notion in his head until the words started to sound harsh. Trip didn't want to get _rid_ of Sacha, but he was so tired of feeling so sick. To not vomit at the mere mention of food, to not feel the pain, to not feel the anger and loneliness anymore- these were the things he wanted to get rid of. Not his friend.  
  
He looked up at his captain and thanked him. Archer smiled back and informed him that a crewman would bring him a uniform for the journey. Trip was glad Archer had mentioned the uniform. He wanted to get back into it more than ever before.  
  
~  
  
With Lieutenant Reed beside him, Archer entered main engineering. And again on instinct, he searched for Trip. But a tiny voice inside him stopped him steps from the engineer's office. With a sigh of regret, he turned to find Lieutenant Hess.   
  
Archer quickly explained the details of the new plan regarding T'Pol's rescue, and how after the initial idea had been put into his head, he had expanded it. He explained how they would give the Vhoorminians something disguised as a real transporter, but was really another completely different piece of technology. Instead, Hess would build a unit that would act as a signal relay station. When the Vhoorminians tested the transporter, the entered coordinates would be relayed to _Enterprise_ and a crewman would use their transporter to move the object- or person if the Vhoorminians were daring enough, to the designated coordinates.   
  
The plan was simple. It was brilliant, and Archer could tell Malcolm liked it. But he could also tell he had some lingering questions. "What is it, Malcolm?" he asked.   
  
"What about the escape? We can transport through the external shield, but will _Enterprise_ be able to locate us?"  
  
Archer thinned his lips. "If all goes well," he replied. "We'll inform the Chancellor that transporter technology does not work within an energy field- he'll have to drop the one he has erected around the Great Hall. When they drop the shields, we'll transport ourselves, including T'Pol, back to _Enterprise_. But again, this is only contingent on T'Pol being top side when the transaction occurs. If she's still down beneath the internal field, we'll have to resort to something more drastic. But right now, let's get this amulet transfer done with. I'd like you to accompany Phlox, Trip and I to the planet. I have no way to tell if the Chancellor will have anything up his sleeves."  
  
Malcolm nodded, rocked back on his heels. "I assume, sir, we'll be taking the shuttle down to the planet this trip, not the transporter?"  
  
Archer furrowed his brow. "Are you trying to be funny, lieutenant?"  
  
"No, sir," he replied. "Okay, maybe a little."  
  
Archer couldn't help but smile back, even though it was the last thing his body wanted to do. "Well, as much as I like a sense of humour in my crew- especially coming from you, Malcolm. I can't say now is the most appropriate time."  
  
Malcolm flushed, stared nervously at the floor. "Sorry, sir." Then he followed his captain out of engineering.  
  
When Archer and Malcolm arrived in the shuttle bay, the other two members of the away team were present. Archer helped Trip into the shuttle and laid him on one of the bench seats. His body had felt light and damp under his touch. Archer could even feel the heat emanating through Trip's uniform. Archer also knew Trip well enough to know he was putting on a brave face. Trip had walked to the shuttle bay, but it was evident now that it had drained all the remaining energy he had.   
  
Archer could see it in Trip's eyes. How each movement seemed like a painful struggle. But Archer went along with Trip's brave front, knowing it would all be over soon. "Are we ready?" he asked, taking the jump seat behind Malcolm at the helm.  
  
~  
  
The Chancellor was staring wide-eyed at the resurrection from the dead. His prisoner was standing defiantly before him; arms crossed behind her back and as alive as any sentient being could be.  
  
"Is something wrong, Chancellor?" asked T'Pol.  
  
"I thought you were dead," gaped the Chancellor. He pointed at the bed, then back at her. "We could not wake you… We thought…"  
  
"Vulcan's are deep sleepers," replied T'Pol. "Perhaps you did not try hard enough to revive me."  
  
"But I tried…" His words trailed off as he tried to figure out why this person was alive and well before him.   
  
"Perhaps you should try and learn about the species you kidnap instead of concentrating on what you can steal from them," stated T'Pol, her face impassive.  
  
The Chancellor eyed her sideways. "But I could have sworn…" he paused, then waved his hand dismissively. "That doesn't matter anymore. I won't be fooled twice."  
  
"Why are you here, Chancellor?" asked T'Pol.  
  
The Chancellor looked at her quizzically. For a prisoner whose life was on the line, she was quite flaccid in her demeanour. And her lack of concern for her immediate safety started to make him nervous. He decided to turn on his threatening voice. "I've come to see if you've changed your mind about the transporter?"  
  
"No," replied T'Pol.   
  
"Very well. I guess you put a lot of faith in your Captain."  
  
"Faith has nothing to do with it," replied T'Pol. "I simply know I will be leaving this planet unharmed, and that you will not gain possession of our transporter."  
  
"We'll see about that," huffed the Chancellor. He spun on his heels and headed out the door.  
  
~  
  
Feeling there was no need to have Trip walk the distance from the park, Archer ordered the shuttle to land before the steps of the Great Hall. As they stepped outside, Archer noticed Trip stumble and fall forward, but the quick reflexes of Phlox caught him before he hit the ground. Malcolm helped Phlox support Trip on his feet, as Archer glanced up the front steps of the hall. The Chancellor was coming down the steps with three armed guards and two people he did not recognise. Archer crossed his arms around his waist, casually resting his hand on the phase pistol attached to his belt. He knew it wouldn't do much against the armed guards, but he felt better knowing it was there.  
  
"Captain," started the Chancellor, offering his hand in a friendly gesture. Archer looked at the hand, but made no intention of accepting it. "Ah, I understand. You want to get this over with as fast as we do."  
  
"Let's get on with this, Chancellor," stated Archer in a clipped voice. "My commander has suffered enough."  
  
"Suffered?" questioned the Chancellor. "It is an honour to be a Beholder and wear the great amulet."  
  
"Commander Tucker has been confined to sickbay ever since he's had that amulet around his neck. It was only out of loyalty to Sacha that he kept it on. If that isn't a sign of our good intentions, than I don't know what is." Archer tried his hardest to contain his disgust, but he knew his voice was betraying him.  
  
The Chancellor shrugged. "Well," he started. "At least you have one honourable person amongst you."  
  
Archer bit back his anger. "Let's get this over with."  
  
The Chancellor made the proper introductions, then Archer and the rest stood back. But not too far. Trip was unsteady on his feet and Archer did not want to see him fall to the ground. Trip was trying real hard to look dignified, and Archer didn't want to let him falter. He was so proud of his friend for holding up so well under these conditions.  
  
The ceremony progressed without incident, and finally the Spiritual Sender removed the amulet from around Trip's neck. Archer watched as the commander took a deep breath of relief. Archer couldn't see an immediate improvement in Trip, but that would take time. He stepped closer to Trip, indicating to the Chancellor the ceremony was done whether they wanted it to be or not. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "How ya feeling, Trip?"  
  
The commander rubbed the back of neck. "Like a giant weight's been lifted," he replied. "But I thought I'd feel a little better than this."  
  
"Repercussions of the amulet's effects," stated Phlox, taking up position beside him and pulling out a medical tricorder.  
  
Then Silla approached, his hand outstretched toward Trip. "I just wanted to thank-you," he said. "I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to know each other. My brother must have thought quite highly of you. But I must be leaving soon." He placed a hand on his chest, covering the amulet. "It's time I put Sacha to rest." Silla bowed graciously, and then walked away with the Spiritual Sender following behind.  
  
Noting that Trip was fairing much better, Archer turned his attention on the Chancellor. It was time to get to the next piece of business.  
  
But the Chancellor spoke before Archer had a chance. "Captain, you will return to your ship now and retrieve the transporter. Bring it to the Great Hall and I will return your sub-commander."  
  
The Chancellor had taken control of the situation, and Archer didn't like it one bit. He would not allow this arrogant Vhoorminian to tell him what to do. "How do you know we're willing to cooperate with your demand?"  
  
"I believe you have no other options," replied the Chancellor, in a cool voice.  
  
"There are always options, Chancellor," sniped Archer.  
  
"Yes," nodded the Chancellor. "But are you willing to exercise them?"  
  
Archer folded his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. Here it goes, he thought. This better work. "You read me well, Chancellor," sighed Archer. "I will bring you our transporter but it will take some time. It's incorporated into our ship's systems. We'll have to construct a portable one."  
  
"Very well," nodded the Chancellor. "We will reconvene when the transporter is complete. In the meantime, we will hold on to your sub-commander." He smiled smugly, and every muscle in Archer's body tensed. He could not look at this man any longer. He turned from the Chancellor and retreated back to the shuttle with the rest of the away team in tow.  
  
  
  
(More to Come) 


	8. Part Eight

  
  
_**'I was the more deceived.'  
- Ophelia (Hamlet)  
  
  
**_**Part Eight**_**  
**_   
  
ON _ENTERPRISE_, the senior officers convened in the briefing room. Commander Tucker had also joined them, taking his usual spot next to the captain. Archer could tell he was still experiencing minor repercussions from the amulet, but if _Enterprise_ was going to make this work, they would need it's chief engineer- despite his dire need for sleep and food.   
  
Archer drew in a deep breath and began the meeting by addressing the contraption Trip's engineer's had constructed. He placed it in the middle of the table and let everyone stare. "It's crude by our standards, but it's fully functional as a relay station," Archer stated, eying the piece with a frown. "Lieutenant Hess tells me they had difficulties trying to arrange an undetectable transmission signal, but Hoshi was able to get around the problem." He looked to the communications officer with a smile.  
  
"Once the Vhoorminians enter their desired coordinates, the relay junction will transmit them directly to our transporter. Commander Tucker will monitor the transmission and activate the transport from our transporter room," stated Archer. He looked at the contraption again and frowned. It was almost comical. For artistic beauty, the engineers had used a protein resequencer keypad to work as the control panel. And if he wasn't mistaken, someone had even attached a fork.  
  
"Well, if it doesn't work, maybe the pretty lights and switches will dazzle them into submission," remarked Trip.  
  
Archer regarded him with a single brow arched. "It's meant to look impressive. Possibly even confuse them, Trip. That way if our plan doesn't work, we can blame it on our technology."  
  
Trip blew out a puff of air. "I hope you guys know how to work it, cause I'm the chief engineer and I can't decide whether to feed it coordinates or feed myself with it."  
  
Archer patted him on the shoulder playfully, but decided it was time to move on. "I would like to contact Chancellor MiVix immediately and tell him I will agree to his terms. Hoshi, I'd like you to join Malcolm and myself. We'll meet in the transporter room in twenty-minutes." He paused and looked directly at Hoshi. "Will you be up to it?"  
  
"Transporter, sir?" she asked hesitantly.   
  
Archer nodded thoughtfully. "I want to be able to make a fast escape if need be."  
  
"I'll be ready," she nodded, this time with certainty.  
  
"Good," replied Archer.   
  
"Excuse me, cap'n," interrupted Trip. "But I'd like to join you if I may? The Vhoorminians seem to have more trust in me; it may be of some benefit." Trip paused, and then quickly added, "No offence, sir."  
  
Archer smiled. "No offence taken, Trip. You have a very valid point. But I want you at the transporter. Hoshi and the rest of us would feel a lot more secure." Archer was confident in his decision, even though Trip seemed a little disappointed. Trip was still recovering and Archer didn't want to have to send the engineer back to sickbay for exhaustion.  
  
He dismissed his senior officers and hailed the Chancellor from his ready room. The transmission had been short and simple which made Archer happy. The faster they got this over with, got T'Pol back safely where she belonged, the happier he would be.   
  
~  
  
Sub-Commander T'Pol was standing between two armed guards when Archer, Malcolm and Hoshi arrived in Chancellor MiVix's office. She appeared completely impassive by the whole ordeal, and nodded slightly in Archer's direction. The Chancellor was pacing in front of her and he seemed either agitated or excited- Archer couldn't tell.   
  
But when the Chancellor spoke, there were no signs of hesitation. He looked at T'Pol with a smug smile. "Seems you were wrong, Sub-Commander. You're captain is a lot smarter than you give him credit for."  
  
Archer took the comment with a grain of salt. "I trust you're well," he asked T'Pol.  
  
"They have not harmed me, Captain," responded T'Pol.  
  
Archer nodded, and then moved slowly to place the relay station/transporter on the Chancellor's desk. To a Vulcan science officer, it was undeniably useless as a transporter, so Archer did not feel the need to share any form of covert conversation with T'Pol. He simply assumed she knew he had gotten her message. He stepped back and watched the Chancellor run his hands over the buttons- careful not to disturb anything.  
  
"So, this is it? This is the great and powerful transporter that's able to move people from one side of a planet to the other instantaneously?"  
  
"It has limitations," responded Malcolm, his voice clipped. "Five thousand kilometres is its range, so don't push it."  
  
"Show me how it works," beamed the Chancellor.  
  
Archer stepped closer. "First release my sub-commander," he demanded.  
  
The Chancellor shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off the transporter. "First you show me how to operate this, and then we give it a test run. You didn't think I would just take it on your word and let you go merrily on your way, did you?"  
  
Archer had anticipated this and was prepared. "Lieutenant, show the Chancellor how it works."  
  
Malcolm stepped up to the table. "Aye, Captain," he replied. Then he indicated the control panel to the Chancellor and began the operation sequence- describing his actions as he went. When he was done, he stepped back and with a nonchalant voice, he added, "But you'll have to lower the energy field in order for it to work."  
  
But the Chancellor was too preoccupied with his new toy and paid no attention to the comment. Archer's stomach began to reel. The field had to be lowered in order for this to work, but it didn't look like it was going to happen. He looked at Hoshi standing beside him, and noticed how her face reflected the pure tension of the moment. Archer took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. If he looked as nervous as she did, their plan would be doomed before it even hit the demonstration stage.   
  
The Chancellor was finally ready to test the device and called one of his guards forward to volunteer. The one chosen stepped forward hesitantly, beads of perspiration evident on his brow. "If anything happens to my guard, your sub-commander dies," threatened the Chancellor. Then he activated the transport before Archer could object.  
  
~  
  
In the transporter room on board _Enterprise_, Trip was staring at his console- hands poised to react quickly. The coordinates sprang into view and he instantly activated the ship's transport beam. When it was done, he let out the breath he was holding and braced himself on the console and hung his head. He had no way of knowing if it had worked, but thought it good when no one contacted him for an emergency transport out.  
  
Then something caught his eye. Trip blinked, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. On the monitor in front of him, in broad daylight, were the bio-signatures of three humans and one Vulcan. Trip straightened upright and rechecked the readings. The Vhoorminians had not raised the energy field after letting the away team into the Hall. And they had even brought T'Pol to the surface. Trip now had a clear and perfect chance to transport the entire away team to the ship.   
  
"Here goes," he breathed, and locked onto the coordinates of the away team and activated transport.  
  
~  
  
The Chancellor beamed when there was a knock at his door and the momentarily displaced guard walked in. "You are a man of your word now, Captain," gaped the Chancellor.  
  
"I've always been a man of my word," Archer retorted. "So, may I take my crew and leave now, Chancellor?"  
  
The Chancellor stared at him, then shared a look with each of Archer's entourage. He was about to order the guards to seize them all when suddenly they dematerialized before him. He spun around to look at his newly acquired transporter and quickly realized no on had activated it.  
  
"The ship!" cried one of the guards.   
  
The Chancellor was raging in both anger and fear. He knew Captain Archer would want retribution for what he had done. The Chancellor had been prepared to take a defensive stance against _Enterprise_, but he had not expected to take is so quickly. "Put the force field back up and arm the weapon!" he ordered, flailing his arms in all directions. "We must make the first move and let them know we will not be over taken!" He jumped to his view screen and immediately informed Kintz.  
  
~  
  
Much to Archer's surprise, he found himself staring into the chief engineer's face on board _Enterprise_. "What happened?" he stammered, trying to settle his disorientation.  
  
"I saw four signatures and figured it was the jackpot," replied Trip. "I hope that was all right, sir?"  
  
Archer raised his hand with a smile. "More than all right, Commander." He descended the platform and patted Trip on the shoulder. "But now that we're back, I suggest we get the hell out of here."  
  
"I concur, sir," stated T'Pol, already heading for the corridor.  
  
Archer was about to access the com panel on the wall and order the ship to leave order, but Mayweather's voice was already occupying the line. "Commander? What's your status? We seem to have a situation arising on the planet?"  
  
The ensign's voice was rushed, but cool, and Archer recognized the urgency of the request. "This is the Captain. What's going on, Ensign?"  
  
"You're back? Is everyone on board?" came back Mayweather's voice.  
  
"Yes, we're fine. What's the situation?" urged Archer.  
  
But before there was an answer, the ship thundered with a loud boom and shuddered low to the right off its axis. The inertial dampeners kicked in and evidently Mayweather was able to right the ship. "Ah, Captain," he replied. "The Vhoorminians have opened a very large shield under most of the southern continent below us… And…" _Boom!_ The ship rocked again. "And they're firing at us."  
  
Archer pushed the alarm and ordered a ship wide alert. "Everyone to their stations. Mayweather, get us out of here." Then he dashed out into the hallway with his crew tight behind him.  
  
On the bridge, Archer took the con without formality and quickly addressed the helm. "I want a sit rep, and I want it brief," he ordered.  
  
Mayweather punched at his keyboard. "I'm not getting a response from the helm, sir."  
  
"Keep trying, Ensign," Archer responded. Then he called engineering. "Trip, what's our status?"  
  
"We're holding up, but there's some sort of polarized probes attached to our outer plating," replied Trip. Then there was a pause. Archer expected the worst. "And every time we change the hull's integrity frequency, the probes adapt."  
  
"Hull integrity is disabling," informed T'Pol. "Hull breach is imminent in forty seconds… thirty seconds…"  
  
"I'm cutting engines, cap'n!" came Trip's voice.   
  
Archer steadied himself on a rail as the ship shimmied beneath his feet. "What's going on?! Report!" he ordered to everyone present.  
  
T'Pol viewed her screen. "Hull integrity has been restored," she announced, now that the ship's engines were idle. "The probes seem to be some sort of anchor to the planet, Captain."   
  
"You mean we can't move?" asked Archer, his face and lips taught.  
  
"If I try to initiate thrusters or impulse I'll rip _Enterprise_ apart, sir," replied Mayweather, turning to face the captain.  
  
"What if we jump to warp?" suggested Malcolm. "Would that be enough force to rip us free?"  
  
"Only if you don't mind leaving behind the lower decks," offered Trip's estranged voice from engineering.  
  
"Not an option," replied Archer. He was trying to contain the adrenalin running through his veins; he had to remain calm. "Hoshi, hail the planet."  
  
"No response," replied the communications officer.  
  
Archer knew they wouldn't, but he told Hoshi to continue anyway. He was feeding on reckless optimism. "In the meantime, Malcolm, do you think a phase blast would dismantle those probes?"   
  
"I'll try," replied Malcolm. Then he fired two shots directly at the probes attached to the hull- careful not to damage the ship itself. It was a close call, and with no effect.  
  
Archer braced his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. _Enterprise_ was stuck between a rock and hard place. They couldn't move and they couldn't break free. "What about the phase canons?"  
  
Malcolm blew out a puff of air. "I don't recommend it, sir. It would blow away most of the hull in the targeted area."  
  
Archer cursed under his breath. He couldn't understand why the Vhoorminians were holding them captive. He had given them what they wanted. And why wouldn't they respond to his hails? Surely they didn't want to hold them here forever. The Vhoorminians had no major ships of their own, so they were obviously not coming up to get them. "T'Pol," he called, heading for her station. "Are there any ships on an intercept course?"  
  
The Vulcan ran her fingers over her controls. "Not currently, sir."  
  
Archer studied the look on his sub-commander's face. "I'm betting," he stated, reading her arched eyebrow. "That the Vhoorminians have friends coming."  
  
"Who?" asked Malcolm.  
  
"I don't know, but I don't want to be here to find out. I want to know the second a ship enters our sensor range," replied Archer. He turned his head toward the floor, but spoke into the open com channel with engineering. "Trip, any ideas about how to disengage us yet?"  
  
"I gave up tryin' to change our hull frequency; they keep matching it at an astounding rate."  
  
"I already know this, Trip," replied a frustrated Archer. "I need something else."  
  
"We'll keep at it, cap'n," stated Trip.  
  
"Two Klingon Birds-of-Prey just entered our sensor range," announced T'Pol. "And three more following at a distance."  
  
Archer spun to face the view screen. "Klingons?! What the hell are they doing here?!"  
  
"Bearing one-three-five-mark-two-four," responded T'Pol. "The first two will intercept in four minutes."  
  
Archer had no time to hesitate, he had to act fast. "Trip!"  
  
"Cap'n, I can't work with these interruptions," came back the engineer's voice.  
  
"Two Klingon ships just dropped in. I need a solution now!" yelled Archer.  
  
There was an audible pause before Trip responded. "I might be on to something… But I'll need a minute, sir."  
  
"We don't have a minute. We're kind of dead in the water, Trip!"  
  
"One minute, cap'n?!"  
  
Archer banged a fist on the back of his chair, but in his mind, he had thrown the whole chair out the nearest port hole. He paced a few steps, trying to calm himself into a rational mode of thinking.   
  
"Captain, they're hailing us," stated Hoshi.  
  
"The Klingons?"  
  
"The planet," corrected Hoshi.  
  
"Captain," interrupted Malcolm, his face stern and ready for action. "The Klingon ships have halted and powered up weapons. One ship is directed at us, but the other is directed at the planet."  
  
Archer took a nanosecond to consider his options. "Power our weapons, Malcolm. Fire at will, but only if they fire first. I don't plan on sitting still and surrendering. We will go down with a fight if we have to." Then Archer turned to his communications officer. "Hoshi, open the channel."  
  
When the Chancellor's face sprung to life on the view screen, Archer negated any polite greetings. "I demand you release my ship and tell me what's going on! There are two Klingon ships up here and one of them is pointed at your planet. And I can guarantee they won't be as compromising as me."  
  
The Chancellor smiled. "Ah, so they have arrived."  
  
"What do you mean _arrived_?" inquired Archer.  
  
"You did't think we primitive Vhoorminians could have propagated this plan do you?" the Chancellor mused.  
  
"If the Klingon's are helping you, then why do they have a ship aimed at your planet?" asked T'Pol.  
  
"Merely protecting their interests," replied the Chancellor, confidently. "We helped them capture your ship, and in return we get to keep your transporter technology."  
  
Just then, Hoshi announced the Klingons were now hailing them. Archer dropped his head in frustration, then ordered a split screen communication- the Chancellor on one side, the Klingon captain on the other. And when the latter appeared on the screen, Archer's head fell even further forward. "Out of all the Klingons out here, it had to be you, Duras."  
  
"Captain Archer," greeted the Klingon. "We meet again." Duras threw his head back with a boisterous laugh., and Archer could tell he was enjoying this way too much.  
  
A moment later, Trip's voice from engineering broke over the intercom. Archer ordered Hoshi to mute communications with both the planet and Duras, and responded to his chief engineer.  
  
"Captain, I might have a solution to our anchor problem," Trip said.  
  
"What is it, Trip?" rushed Archer, both eyes on the forward view screen.  
  
"If we can hold a phaser beam on the probes long enough, we can send a polarized burst down the stream. It should be enough to stun the probes and give us enough time to create a sudden change in our hull frequency. If Travis can hit the warp drive at the exact time of impact, we should be able to break free. But the timing must be exact."  
  
Archer turned to the helmsman, both eyebrows raised questioningly. "No problem," responded Travis.  
  
"Trip, we'll keep this line open. On my mark I want both of you to do your thing," ordered Archer.  
  
"We're ready down here, cap'n," replied Trip. Travis nodded and readied himself over the helm.  
  
Archer motioned for Hoshi to open the line with the Chancellor and Duras, then approached the screen. The angered Klingon was the first to speak. "Captain, this is futile. We have won, now prepared to be boarded! There is no escape!" His face was even redder than usual for a Klingon, and he was leaning close to the view screen making an ominous impression on Archer's bridge. The Chancellor was standing by on the planet, listening to the confrontation.  
  
Archer drew in a deep breath, and although he had complete confidence in his crew, he crossed his fingers in the back of his mind. He approached the view screen and put on his most defeated demeanour. He crossed his arms behind his back and sunk his shoulders. "Duras," he sighed. "You're correct. There is no escape. But I ask that you grant me time to make the announcement to my crew?"  
  
"No!" retorted the Klingon. "I know you too well, Archer. You will use that time to your advantage and sabotage your ship. There will be no time granted! Prepare to be boarded!"  
  
"Very well, Duras," Archer said, imitating a Vulcan's stoicism. He turned his head to his sub-commander, then he took his seat centre bridge and held onto the arm rests with vigour. "Three… two…"  
  
The Klingon's face lit up with panic. "They're up to something!" he screamed.  
  
"…One…" continued Archer.  
  
"Fire at will!" ordered the Klingon.  
  
"Now!" stressed Archer, bracing for the forward jolt. _Enterprise_ lurched forward, freeing itself from the impending anchor as several powerful bursts thundered beneath. Travis gracefully arched the sleek ship in an abrupt tactical manoeuvre, then _Enterprise_ cleared the tops of the Klingon ships and jumped to warp.  
  
They were light years away before their aggressors realized what had just transpired, and even further away when the Chancellor had his temper tantrum over discovering the transporter device was a fake.  
  
When Travis dropped _Enterprise_ out of warp, Archer rose and let the tension flow out of his body. He walked around his chair and leaned over- bracing his hands on the back rest. He stared at the view screen displaying tiny white dots, all peaceful and serene. Another catastrophe diverted. But when would they meet their next? And would he be able to recognize it when it was happening?   
  
"I would have given anything to see the look on the Chancellor's face when we hit warp," commented Malcolm, causing Archer to smile.  
  
"I guess he learned his lesson," mused Archer.  
  
"Not to mess with _Enterprise_, sir?" asked Malcolm.  
  
"That they shouldn't take things at face value, Lieutenant," replied Archer. "If they had of opened up that transporter and realized it was a fake, this whole situation would have ended up a lot differently."  
  
"May I remind you, Captain," interrupted T'Pol. "That if we had taken that advice during first contact, we never would have been in this situation in the first place."  
  
Archer made no comment. He turned quietly and gave the bridge one last glance before retiring to his ready room. I hate it when she's right, he thought to himself as he sat behind his computer. He pulled up the report index on his screen and entered his first log. _The face of the enemy was friendly and comforting. But what lay underneath..._  
  
  
  
~ The End ~ 


	9. Epilogue

_**  
  
'Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart truly is. I have been bent and broken, I hope, into a better shape.'  
- Charles Dickens (Great Expectations)  
  
  
**_**Epilogue**_**  
**_   
  
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Trip Tucker was leaning against a table in the mess hall. Doctor Phlox was at the food dispenser, searching through the leftovers for something easily digestible. Trip wasn't sure if it was pure exhaustion or the smell of food, but something was making his stomach feel queasy again. He tried to fight it off and prayed the doctor returned with something small, and preferably liquid. Solid foods were the last thing Trip thought his stomach could handle.  
  
He was pleasantly relieved when Phlox returned with a glass of water and a small plate of scrambled eggs. Trip sat down with the food and braced his stomach. He picked up a fork, then lifted his eyes as the doors to the mess hall opened and Hoshi Sato walked in.  
  
"Hey, doc. Hello, Commander," she greeted. Phlox smiled and said hello, Trip nodded and returned his eyes to the plate. He hadn't anticipated her want to sit with him. "Sorry to disturb you," replied Hoshi, her voice slightly irritated.  
  
"No, no, it's all right. I'm just tired," apologized Trip. He took a deep breath then reached instead for the glass of water. He took a small sip, and realizing how easily it slid down, he look a larger sip and savoured the cool liquid as it glided down his throat.  
  
Hoshi sat down at the table and crossed her hands in her lap. "I just figured after all I had done for you, you would at least appreciate it enough to say thank-you," she said.  
  
Trip put his glass down, stared at the young communications officer. "I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?" he asked, sharing a look with the doctor. "Am I missin' something?"  
  
Hoshi's mouth dropped open. She stared back, causing Trip to swallow hard. "Missing something?" she enunciated. "I sat with you. I held your head when you were sick, sir. I tucked you back into bed when you couldn't walk. What do you mean, _am I missing something?_"  
  
"Hoshi, Hoshi," soothed Trip, noticing the excitement and anger growing in her voice. He touched her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "I'm sorry. I don't remember much of anything these past few days," he said softly. He noticed she was frowning and not quite understanding. "I mean, I remember," he continued. "But it's all like a dream. I thought it was a dream. I just remember feeling lonely, and scared, angry, and not to mention sick to my stomach. I can't imagine anyone wanting to be around me much lately."  
  
"Oh, it was real all right," replied Hoshi.  
  
"So it was really you?" asked Trip, slowly letting the dream turn tangible in his mind. "I'm sorry. I just figured it had to be a dream. I mean, you did imply earlier that I'm not the best company to keep." He let his voice trail off, remembering their conversation in the shuttle pod.  
  
"And you implied I was a language obsessed isolationist," she retorted, with a gentle smile.  
  
"I guess we're even then," replied Trip. He stared at her face, his eyes studying the strong human emotions she was conveying. How could he have missed this before? She looked so genuine, so apathetic. She was probably the most compassionate person he knew, and all he had ever seen in her was her obsession for languages. Now he saw beyond that; to the person behind the face. He bit his lower lip and returned the smile. "Thank you, Hoshi. For everything you've done."  
  
"You're welcome, Commander."  
  
  
_**'The past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.'  
- Mary Shelley (Frankenstein)**_  
  
  
  
  
**~ The End ~**


End file.
